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“Cease!”
The command rumbled down from the branches above and resounded off the standing yews.
Glenn felt the compulsion to stop his attack, but sloughed it off. He couldn’t give the leprechaun an inch, while hoping what remained of his party could somehow defeat the troll. Besides, the leprechaun kept coming at him, snaking beneath Glenn’s shield and striking a solid blow against the gnome healer’s shin.
Ron, Stephi, Keri, and even Rocky disengaged and backed away from the troll. The fierce beast ignored the command and pressed his attack, this time focusing on the spear-wielding warrior druid.
Ron stood ready, but the attack never came. Sinuous roots reached up from the ground, through the flattened meadow grass, and coiled around the troll’s feet, holding them in place. The roots didn’t stop there. They continued their twisting climb, even as the troll stopped and tore at them with fingers and claws. It continued until a stalemate in the struggle was reached just above the troll’s knees.
The same happened to Glenn, but he didn’t fight the roots. He simply twisted his hips and neck to see what was happening.
Bata Fidil rose above the ground, like a helium-filled balloon, halting beyond the reach of the entangling, snake-like roots.
No one else was threatened by the trees’ animated subterranean appendages.
Trying to keep his shield between himself and the leprechaun floating above the meadow grass, Glenn saw the little man had lost interest in him. The gnome followed the leprechaun’s gaze, peering to the far side of the small clearing.
A tall, lithe woman with flowing, moss-green hair and deep mahogany-colored skin strode into the clearing. A diaphanous veil and flowing gown partially hid her face and otherwise unclothed body. The garments shimmered like dew-covered spider webs reflecting a morning’s sunrise.
The wood nymph, Polayney, raised an arm and pointed an accusing finger at Bata Fidil. “You brought conflict into my wildwood. Death into my home.”
Bata Fidil remained where he was, arms crossed in arrogant defiance. He cocked his head, looking around until his eyes fell upon the broken body of Chili. He started to say something, then thought better of it. Instead he pointed his own accusing finger at Stephi and said to the wood nymph, “You know as well as I do, the blame falls upon her, the one that they call Marigold.”
“What?” Stephi said, a look of disbelief on her face. Her eyes narrowed as she pointed her accusing finger. “Don’t you even try to blame me, you—you mean little man.”
The troll ceased his savage attempts to free himself, but clearly hadn’t given up. Thigh muscles bulged as he continued to twist and attempt to pull his legs free.
Ron sidestepped until he stood to Stephi’s left. He tipped his head upward, speaking quietly toward her ear. “Marigold, refrain from being further drawn into their dispute.”
The towering elf maiden cocked her head and stared down at the warrior druid. Glenn kind of wondered, too. She was sort of at the center of the conflict...wasn’t she?
Ron signaled to Stephi, and she bent so that he might whisper into her ear. It wasn’t difficult to determine what he said because she immediately grasped the front of her cloak and pulled it closed over her exposed chest—and more.
That Glenn hadn’t paid attention to her wardrobe malfunction said how distracted the conflict had left him. He wondered if Stephi’s flashing had distracted Derek. Probably not. He’d been fighting not only for the party, but for his very life.
The big warrior lay motionless on the ground, as did the half-goblin thief. Without his breastplate, Glenn observed Derek’s chest rise and fall. Kirby’s chest did the same. Next to Chili’s broken body was Rocky. He laid with head, ears and tail down on the edge of the impact impression. The brave dog quietly moaned, mourning the loss of his companion. Keri Lovelace reluctantly moved from her surviving canine to stand on Stephi’s right. She, Stephi and Ron listened attentively to the intense exchange between the leprechaun and wood nymph.
“She is a sylvan creature,” Polayney said to Bata Fidil. “Your words and deeds were suited to dealings with a mortal, not a distant cousin.” Beneath her gossamer veil, the wood nymph’s gaze wandered toward the prone bodies of Derek and Kirby.
Bata Fidil threw up his hands. “Her words and actions, they’re not those of an elf maiden. Rather, those of a pesky girl with human blood.”
“She is more than an elf maiden,” Polayney countered. “Her flesh was able to harm your flesh.”
The leprechaun’s nose scrunched up. To that, he had no reply.
“You will effect a suitable resolution and depart,” the wood nymph said. “Or it shall be I who draws the next and final blood.”
The leprechaun shook his head. “Yer magic canna harm me. Nor can ye confine me here.” He crossed his arms. “And plenty of mischief in return can you expect for centuries to come.”
Polayney took a step closer to the leprechaun. “The blood would be that of your hirelings,” she said. “As for centuries to come...” The wood nymph gestured with her right hand and roots anew emerged from the soil. They coiled around and covered the gold-filled kettle. “Endure those same centuries in the company of your fellows, bereft of your treasure of gold.”
Fellows? Glenn thought. The gnome healer shuddered at the thought of a company of leprechauns.
He wondered, without his pot of gold, would Bata Fidil’s magical prowess be weakened? Would the loss of ranks—if the Monsters, Maces and Magic’s game creatures such as leprechauns had ranks—accompany Bata Fidil’s loss of prestige among his fellow leprechauns? If nothing else, Bata Fidil would be like a king whose scepter and crown jewels had been confiscated.
While leprechaun and wood nymph stared each other down, Emma dropped her Camouflage and made her way next to the gnome healer. In addition to the fairy’s broken wing, she limped heavily.
Even though he was down ten or so hit points, he still had two Minor Heal Draw spells. Keeping an eye divided between the leprechaun and wood nymph, and the still straining troll, he whispered to the fairy, “Get closer so I can heal your wing.”
Emma stepped right up next to the roots holding Glenn in place.
Curious as to how a broken wing would manifest itself, Glenn whispered the words to his spell and touched the small fairy’s shoulder. Pain in his right scapula answered the question.
Emma’s wing straightened. She grinned broadly as she fluttered up into the hair. She swooped back down and laid a light kiss on Glenn’s nose. The fairy acted so quickly, the kiss was over before the gnome knew what was happening.
Bata Fidil ended the silent standoff. “Fine.” He threw up his arms and stomped around in a circle. “But I’ll be settling with the elf maiden, and her alone.”
Not waiting for a reply, the leprechaun waved a hand, gesturing for Stephi to follow him over to the far side of the glade.
“Be strong,” Keri urged.
“Contemplate what is proposed,” Ron said. “Rely on your high Intelligence Score.”
If what the warrior druid said seemed out of place, none of the NPCs took notice.
Still clutching her cloak closed, Stephi huffed and walked wide around the unconscious ogre and followed Bata Fidil to the meadow’s edge. With their backs to everyone, they began their negotiation. Glenn could hear discussion, but not what was said.
Emma flew around the roots gripping the gnome healer, momentarily resting a hand on the thicker tendrils holding him in place. Seconds after she did, each withdrew and disappeared beneath the soil.
“Thanks,” Glenn said.
Emma giggled and flew over to Keri and settled on the Glade House owner’s shoulder. The two began conferring. In the meantime, Polayney had moved next to the troll and silently convinced the monstrous creature to cease his struggles. Once he complied, the roots holding him in place withdrew.
The troll lifted each foot, ensuring he was free then stood straight and motionless, like a statue. In the depths of a wooded area, Glenn wasn’t sure he could see the troll. It wasn’t like the troll was using some sort of spell power like Emma. Instead he relied on coloration and stillness to blend in. In Glenn’s book that made him even more dangerous.
Glenn trotted over to stand next to Ron.
Keeping an eye on the troll, the warrior druid patted Glenn on the shoulder. “This day is progressing toward a most memorable one.”
Glenn hoped “memorable” also meant worth a lot of experience points. He glanced up at Ron. “Think it would be okay if I healed Gurk?”
“Bide,” Ron said. “It may unbalance the tranquil mood the wood nymph is working to maintain.”
Stephi turned and shouted over her shoulder. “Lysine, what’s a ‘Firkin of a butt?’”
“In measure of wine cask units,” he said, “eight gallons of one hundred and twenty-six.”
Stephi’s attention returned to her conversation with Bata Fidil. She shook her head, drawing Glenn’s attention to her long wavy hair. The leprechaun stomped his booted foot. His face turned an even darker shade of red.
After a few more moments of discussion, Stephi asked, “Lysine, what’s a pin of a tun?”
“In measure of wine cask units,” Ron said, “four gallons of two-hundred and fifty-two gallons.”
“What’s that about?” Glenn asked Ron.
“Component measurements to establish a fraction. Firkin of a hogshead, eight out of sixty-three. Firkin of a butt, eight of one hundred twenty-six.”
“And,” Glenn said, “four of two fifty-two. Why’s Marigold asking you all that?”
“Based upon the discussion between Bata Fidil and...” Ron gestured toward the wood nymph who’d moved to kneel next to Rocky. “I believe Bataí Fidil na Maidine is attempting to extract some measure of a concession from Marigold.”
Keri and Emma joined the wood nymph. Keri knelt with tears welling in her eyes and petted her surviving canine companion.
Glenn felt the pang of loss. The little dog had touched his heart during his stay at the Glade house. He sighed and took a long, steadying breath, and pushed the sadness into a corner. At the moment the fate of Stephi and his party concerned him more.
Stephi reached down and shook hands with Bata Fidil. Even as they shook, Glenn watched Stephi’s stature decrease. Not a lot, but enough that her cloak hung a little long in the sleeves and hemline.
With that, the tree canopy retreated, allowing sunlight to reach the meadow. The roots holding the pot of gold withdrew and returned to their place beneath the meadow grass.
With the brightest smile Glenn had seen in months, Stephi actually skipped over to him and Ron.
She picked Glenn up and hugged him to her barely covered breasts and spun around. “I’m back!” As if to emphasize the fact, from the trees behind, Petie belted out a joyous song. Glenn interpreted it as, “Happy, happy, content. Happy, happy, content.”
Glenn turned his face to the side after returning the gesture with a quick hug. He tried to find appropriate purchase for his hands to push away. Now wasn’t the time to get aroused. “Maybe I should heal Gurk now?”
Stephi nearly dropped the gnome. “Oh,” she said, embarrassed, and placed Glenn on the ground. “And the little...leprechaun, he wants his gold coin.”
“Jax,” Ron said, maintaining a wary stance as he faced Bata Fidil, who was striding toward the party, “I shall expend one Minor Cure Spell upon Gurk after retrieving the gold coin from his person and delivering it to Bataí Fidil na Maidine.
“Marigold, remain vigilant,” Ron continued. The warrior druid was already walking toward the fallen thief. “Jax, accompany me.”
Glenn trotted to catch up. Ron intended to reach Kirby before the leprechaun.
Ron knelt down and withdrew the coveted coin from a hidden pocket in Kirby’s left boot. He turned and handed it to Glenn.
The gnome’s eyes widened. The round coin was cold in his grip, like it’d been lying in a pile of snow. Ron was only one quarter elf, not enough to be treated fairly—well sort of fairly—as a gnome by a leprechaun.
Bata Fidil stood in front of Glenn, right hand extended.
“When I give this to you,” Glenn said, holding up the coin, “our agreement is complete and satisfactory to both sides?”
“That it will be, Jax, the oddest gnome I’ve ever had the displeasure of meeting.”
Not waiting for a response, Bata Fidil snatched the coin. A mongoose hyped up on methamphetamine couldn’t have been faster. The leprechaun turned and gestured toward the troll. “Pick up Loagull so we can be gone.” He tossed his returned gold coin onto the pile within his pot before waving his hands. The rainbow returned.
The troll managed to lift the bulkier ogre over his shoulder. The lizard man trotted onto the scene, picked up his trident, and Loagull’s spiked club and joined the troll and leprechaun next to the rainbow.
In an iridescent flash, the leprechaun and his henchmen were gone.