Treffen backed away, realizing his mistake too late. Ranger rule, never get backed into a corner. Now he had nowhere to run.
With a feral roar, Gawain jumped between the Executioner and Treffen. But his armor wouldn’t turn a blade the size of the one carried by the huge chimera, so Treffen peppered the creature with arrows as it bore down on his friend.
Up close, it was all the more horrible. It had the adorable face and long soft ears of a bunny, but contorted with just enough human to haunt Treffen’s nightmares forever. Behind them Trent continued to mow down the evil plants that were still being spewed out of the rift into darkness.
Gawain feinted with his blade. The Executioner was powerful but slow. Even in armor, Gawain was able to dodge the blows, but he couldn’t get in close enough to land a cut of his own. The Grobbit’s long reach combined with the length of the axe handle made great sweeping arcs through the air.
While Gawain lunged with his sword, Treffen shot around him, avoiding his companion. But the arrows did nothing. Several were sticking out of the thing’s armor, and one was lodged in its cute bunny face, but it didn’t seem to notice. Treffen slung his bow over his shoulder and pulled out his trusty machete.
Dodging clouds of poison spores released by the kodama that evaded Trent’s death grasp, he zipped around behind the Grobbit.
Gawain’s eyes met Treffen’s, and the Knight invited the Grobbit’s blow. He stood still, panting dramatically, sword drooping in his grasp. The Grobbit couldn’t help but fall for the act. It reared the huge axe over its shoulder and swept it around at Gawain-neck height.
At the last second, Gawain ducked, doubtless feeling the wind of the axe over his head.
Treffen pounced. He jabbed his machete into the small crease where the thigh armor met the calf armor in the back. His blade penetrated straight into the back of the Grobbit’s knee, and it howled in pain and rage. Treffen danced out of reach, his machete still stuck in the monster’s leg.
The Grobbit was barely slowed, but it was enough for Gawain. With a mighty throw, he hurled his sword straight and true. Treffen couldn’t watch as the blade found the adorable bunny face.
The great axe fell to the sticky ground, and the Grobbit tumbled backward, thumping down with a final flop of its fuzzy ears.
Gawain ran to retrieve his blade but paused at a rumble from Trent.
“The axe! Get the axe!”
Trent was covered in Sprouts and Mooks. His brown bark was alive with crawling plant life, all belching poison in the Treant’s face. Guess plant poison doesn’t affect plant-monsters. Treffen amended the thought. Plant-creatures. There were certainly monsters here, but Trent was a tree with a mission.
Gawain didn’t seem to understand, but in a flash, Treffen did.
“Chop down the stumps! They’re the rift! The creatures are spawning right through them.”
With a roar, Gawain picked up the huge axe and ran for the first hollow stump. He chopped off the raised spine, sending the top skull flying. The air around the stump shimmered, but the dark portal remained open. Like some kind of deranged lumberjack, Gawain rained blows on the target.
Half of the dark rift winked out, revealing the far wall of the courtyard behind it decorated with squished plants. The Knight heaved his axe into the second stump, and in three blows, it was over. With a hiss, the portal closed.
Treffen helped Trent dispatch most of the remaining plants, but a few escaped out the open door into the forest.
Quiet blanketed the courtyard. The loudest sound was Treffen’s heartbeat pounding in his ears.
Gawain spoke first. “A valiant battle.”
Trent was picking bits of plant matter out of his bark, and his face split into that alarming, woody grin. “We did good, didn’t we?”
“We sure did.” Treffen looked around at the courtyard. “You were amazing. Both of you.”
Gawain wiped his blade and sheathed it, clearly not surprised that he had turned in such a stellar performance. But Trent looked like a kid on festival day.
“They just kept coming and coming, but I got ‘em, didn’t I? And you . . .” He pointed a branch at Treffen. “You . . . saved my life.” His eyes opened wide at the realization. “The King Sprout was going to chomp me. You shot it. You saved me.”
“Nowhere near as many times as you saved me, big guy.” Treffen pulled his machete out of the unfortunate Grobbit’s leg and wiped it on the thing’s fur. “Sure glad you’re with us.”
Gawain interrupted the lovefest. “We can’t rest. They surely know we’re coming. We need to get inside, find Emerald, and get out of here. There can’t be that many tunnels under this place.”
There can’t? The whole footprint of this huge fortress could be a warren of underground passages. And there might be deeper levels under the first one. How are we ever going to find her?
Arrows were stuck all over the ground, impaling the kodama Treffen had shot. He pulled them out, inspected them, and replaced those that passed muster into his quiver. “We can’t just go in without a plan. We have no idea where we’re going. Getting lost in the tunnels won’t help anyone.”
Gawain removed his helmet and wiped sweat from his forehead. “The tree said he knows where to go.”
“Trent said he’d get us in, and he did.” Treffen turned to the Treant. “Do you know your way inside this place? How could you know that?”
The Treant’s eyes grew wide, and he chewed his lip.
Treffen sighed. “You don’t know where to go inside?”
No answer from Trent.
Gawain swore under his breath. “So why did we come here, then? Are we just going to leave?”
Trent swallowed hard and opened his mouth to speak. He closed it, shook his head, and opened it again. “I smell something,” he said, sniffing the air.
“I smell a lot of stuff,” Treffen grumbled.
“Human.”
There wouldn’t be any real humans here. All the Betrayer’s forces were either chimeras, which would never smell like their human parts, twisted kodama which would smell like this courtyard, and Nether Elves which would smell like . . . elves.
“Is it her?” Treffen dared to hope. Trent hadn’t shown any particular keenness of smell in the past, but maybe he just hadn’t said anything. Or maybe he did, and I missed it amid his never-ending torrent of questions.
The Treant shrugged. “A human came this way. I can follow.”
“Good,” Gawain said. “Trent can lead us through. I’m going to check out what’s through the door. You two wait here. If it’s safe, I’ll come back for you.”
Treffen eyed the doorway. “What if it isn’t safe?”
“Then I won’t come back at all.”
The Knight disappeared into the darkness. Treffen stood next to Trent in the doorway, fidgeting in the aftermath of the battle. He kept glancing back at the small doorway through which they’d entered the courtyard.
“Treffen?” The name sounded funny on Trent’s woody tongue.
“Yeah, buddy?”
“What are you looking at?”
He looked at the giant tree. “Nothing. Just a weird feeling. Like someone is watching us. I’m sure it’s nothing.” But Master Birch’s lessons rattled in his brain. When your head and your gut disagree, always trust the gut.
They stood in silence for a moment, until Trent spoke again.
“Treffen?”
A patient sigh. “Yes?”
The Treant didn’t answer for a moment, and Treffen looked up at him. He was biting his lip and clearly thinking hard. “We’re friends. You said we’re friends.”
“Sure we are,” Treffen said. “We saved each other’s lives. That’s what friends do, if they can.”
“Treffen, I . . .” Trent lapsed into uncharacteristic silence.
Orange light glowed in the dark hallway, and Gawain turned the corner, lit torch in hand. Trent shied away from the flame.
“Found light. Let’s go.”
He stared at Trent, who opened his mouth and looked at Treffen again. He seemed on the verge of saying something when Gawain spoke instead.
“Come on, tree. Lead us to the human.”
Trent sighed, sidled around the torch, and led them into the Downs.