The girl from the mist

Chapter Two

The estate of Gnoll's Keep was, in many ways, an oxymoron. First of all, there were no gnolls. Second of all, it was not a keep. It wasn't very much of anything, really, simply a selection of round stone houses gathered around a peak. The largest one, which featured a tower, could be called a fortification by the more generous type of warlord, but there were no outer walls. It was simply a selection of houses, with herb gardens, chicken coops and small fields in between. Precisely what it had been built for originally was a mystery that not even the local farmers could answer clearly, but that didn't matter. Token the Wizard had made it his own.
Like many wizards, Token's origins and training was something of an enigma, as was his true age. But if this leads you to believe that this is one of those wizards who secretly guide the course of kingdoms and are set unto this earth to fight great evil, you are sorely mistaken. No, Token was a studious wizard, prone to probing the depths of arcane lore from the safety of his study. True, he had wandered Hearthland with a band of adventurers in earlier times, but having gathered enough material for even a particularly long life, he had settled into the ruins of Gnoll's Keep to retire. His companions had been spread across the land, some in positions of power and wealth, some in seclusion like himself. Only Master Howard and his son, the designated fighter of their little band, had followed him there, in part because every wizard needs a protector, in part because he himself sought a simple life. Too many close calls with chimeras and skeleton hordes had made the old warrior yearn for a little peace in which to raise his son, hoping, paradoxically, that his son might one day continue his legacy in the adventuring profession.
And Cassandra? Well, she was nobody's daughter. Or rather, presumably she was, but not the daughter of anyone in Gnoll's Keep. She was there on the simple basis that every wizard needs an apprentice, not so much to pass on the craft, but to do all those menial tasks that occult research entails. Someone needs to gather the spider's web and newt's eye, someone has to catch escaped imps. Someone, in short, need to clear up the splash of purple goo that is the stereotypical side effect of a magic potion gone wrong.
Cassandra didn't mind. Of course, she knew no other life. And admittedly, there was less magic involved in being a wizard's apprentice than she had expected, but that wasn't Master Token's fault, after all. It didn't matter. The work she could do wasn't bad, and Token was really a rather kindly old coot. Overall, it would have been a rather nice life if the only person her age for miles hadn't been that insufferable pomp Vance.
It wasn't that she hated him. He was just very silly. When they were twelve, he'd sworn up and down that he was going to challenge the werewolf in the next valley to a duel. He'd talked about it for a week, until even his father had been fed up and offered to take him there. This shut his mouth rather quickly, but for nearly a month afterwards he'd tried to convince her that he'd gone there and the creature had run away. A teller of tall tales.
Which was frankly the reason she didn't take his stories about a monster all that seriously.
Finishing up the cauldron, she glanced out the window at the sky, and to her dismay, the sun was creeping towards the west. She had a full day tomorrow, and she knew that Master Token was running low on yellow waterlilies for his potions. She knew this better than the wizard, who had been immersed in some decaying tome for the last few days. Often she would find his dinner untouched when she came into his study next morning, and the old man didn't seem to realise the night had passed. Sighing with that special kind of sigh one reserves for an elderly person one cherishes but finds silly, she put away the cauldron and picked up her red cloak. Catching a glimpse of herself in the water of the sink, she looked at it critically, pushing back her hair once more.
Her hair was really the only thing she liked about herself. Her face was rather pudgy (her own fault, since she did the cooking), and prone to freckles. Other than the bright red cloak, her clothing were sensible and rather dull. She smiled wryly at her own reflection. Of course, who would she have to impress anyway? She picked up her basket and headed out.
The area immediately surrounding the estate was sparsely populated. The little collection of farms that supplied Token's household was about an hour's walk through the forest, to the west. Every other direction was filled up with a thick forest, stretching all the way to the mountains. Cassandra knew it well: She had grown up in it after all, and she knew the way to the little swamp that supplied the more esoteric of Token's herbs.
Nevertheless, a strange feeling of unease fell over her as the canopy of leaves closed over her head. The tall tree trunks lined the little path like pillars in a tomb, and the light was bottle green were it was filtered through the foliage. The occasional ray of light penetrated the leaves to illuminate blue and pink flowers curling around the roots of the ancient trees. She felt oddly exposed where she went, and for a brief moment she considered postponing her errand.
Then she scowled at herself, and continued walking.
The swamp was really just a lower part of the forest, the ending point of several microscopic streams. Since there was nowhere left to flow, they had gathered into a little lake of standing water, surrounded by marshland. There was always a ripe variety of water lilies here, which Token himself planted every spring. She had no idea why, but she knew from experience that the old man could be impressively vague when he wanted to be.
She had filled half a basket when she saw the first adder.
It wasn't a particularly large one, and it certainly wasn't poisonous. The black form slunk unwillingly from its hiding place beneath a tree root, and moved quickly across the path. Cassandra, on her knees to gather one of the more distant lilies with an iron rod, watched it with astonishment. Adders were usually shyer than that.
A twig snapped behind her, and she spun around.
There was nothing there: wolfsbane plants and hemlock grew between two trees. The trunk of a third tree lay between them, and the greenish tint of a moss-covered trunk could be seen behind that again. There was no movement or sound. Now that she listened for it, she realised there wasn't even any birdsong.
A cold trickle moved down her spine, and she rose up, timidly. She pressed the woven basket with the lilies in it closer to herself, almost protectively. It had grown darker.
There was a rustling that made her look to one side.
It was a serpent this time, greenish in colour, but also harmless. It slid out of the bushes where it had been hiding and headed away from her. As if this had been a signal, little sounds emerged everywhere around her. From every tree root and every hole, serpents, adders, and frogs emerged, crawling in all directions. She gawked at them, turning her head to get it all in. Her gaze brushed over the tableau with the fallen trees, and she paused, thinking that she had seen something. She eyed the moss-covered trunk.
And when the trunk slid forward, scales glittering in the rays of the sun, she realised it wasn't a tree trunk at all.
"Ethros protect me" she whispered.
Then she ran.
She turned on her heel and ran up the little path. Toads and lizards croaked and scuttled as she passed, hastily making their way from beneath he pounding feet. She was going the wrong way, she realised, away from the keep. She was heading deeper into the forest, and-
The mouldy earth beneath her feet erupted, and a clawed hand emerged from the silt. It grabbed her leg, sending her face-first into the ground. The lilies scattered, and she screamed, twisting herself to take a look at the thing.
The hand was hideous: Four curved digits ending in sharp claws, the entire thing covered in dark, green scales. She scream again, but while she had lost her basket, she retained the iron rod for fetching the flowers. Acting more out of fear than rationality, she struck the scaly appendage with the heavy rod.
Something screamed, oddly muffled, and to her horror she realised that it came from underground. Whatever it was, it hadn't expected resistance, and briefly relinquished its grip. Pulling herself free in an instance, she was on her feet, running. She clasped the iron rod to her, protectively. I'm going to die, she thought, I'm going to die and oh my gods I'm going to die knowing that Vance was actually right about something!
As if that thought was more pressing than her actual demise, inspiration struck her. Whatever it was that was chasing her, it seemed to burrow underground. It had favoured the swamp, so perhaps it couldn't dig in just anything. There was a small patch of rocky ground ahead. It wasn't the best of plans, but at this point there was only two options, and the other one was moot as long as the creature remained underground.
Rushing through the forest, she heard a strange rumbling underneath her feet. She dodged abruptly hither and thither, trying to confuse it, hoping against hope to ensnare it amongst the tree roots. Whether it worked or not was impossible to tell, but by skill or miracle, she made it to the cliffs in the center of the forest.
Fear granting her speed, she crossed the little meadow that surrounded the rocky outcropping, and jumped up on the lowest stone with practised ease. There was bedrock beneath, she knew. The earth was shallower here, she could-
She stopped.
In between the rocks was a little hollow, small enough for a petit person to cower. She had sought it out, but now that she was there, she stared in amazement.
There are a few points in our lives where we are at a crossroad. Times in which we make those decisions that influence the course of the rest of our lives. We never expect them, and very rarely are we able to say why we chose the way we did. In this instance, Cassandra looked from the hollow to the ground and back to the hollow.
Then she jumped off the rock and ran into the forest once more.
There was little hope for it now: There were only so many places that she knew the ground to be difficult to traverse. The rumbling beneath her moved quicker, stronger, as if it was nearer to the surface. She made a beeline for a massive oak tree, whose roots were as thick and strong as any mountain. She held the iron rod in both hands, fully knowing it would be useless against a creature like this. There was only one option now, and it was useless as long as it was underground.
There was silence for a moment. No creature stirred, no bird sang. The wind pushed the leaves in obscene tranquillity.
The earth exploded.
Dirt and rocks flew in every direction as the creature emerged, a confused impression of scales, teeth, eyes and claws, a huge, serpentine body coiling itself from the ground. It pounced towards her, and she flung out her hand, desperately. She had only done this as practise, with Master Token with her. She wasn't good, she wasn't-
A brief, sharp light burst from her hand.
As magic went, it was not ideal. It was simply an illumination spell, not meant to be this brief nor this strong. But she panicked. She was frightened, and it was the best that she could do: A brief flash of light burning like a sun for a fraction of a second.
There was no way it could have hurt the creature, whatever it was, but to her amazement, she heard it shriek. There was a confusion of dirt once more, and once the afterglow had faded from her eyes, she realised she was alone in the forest. It was gone.
Groggily, she looked around her, as if wondering if it was hiding behind a tree. There was only the disturbed earth and the peace of the forest. She was, absurdly as it might seem, safe.
She took two steps, then fell to the ground, unconscious.