“Those Trolls are such a nuisance,” the dark witch said.
“Oh, they’re nothing compared to my Bloodhound, Sherlock,” Ignatius said.
“Bloodhound?”
“Never mind.”
The dark witch leaned forward. “Ah, you have secrets, wizard. Don’t we all?”
“Please, let me drink in peace, my lady. I mean no disrespect.”
“As you wish, but I guess you aren’t interested in your Gnome’s whereabouts.”
Ignatius paused as he brought his cup up to his lips. “My Gnome? You know of Gelbus?”
“Yes, I do.”
“Please, spare me wasted time. If you are only here to mess with my head, I warn you, I am quite powerful,” Ignatius said.
“He was here only a fortnight ago. Cheery fellow. A bit of a heavy drinker though. But he was here looking for someone himself.”
Ignatius’s stomach flipped. That was Gelbus. Though he had never met the Gnome, he knew it was so from the Centaur’s description. How many Gnomes drank, after all?
“Where is he now?”
“He was abducted.”
“Abducted?” Ignatius’s mouth hung open. The burning of his insides from the Firejuice was the furthest thing from his mind.
“I’ve seen it in the flames, wizard,” the witch said. This all but confirmed her origin. Only a certain type of witch read flames, and it was a certain type of witch Ignatius didn’t particularly want to be associated with.
“The Gnome came in and asked for a friend. He was approached by a man undercover—sort of like you, Ignatius Mangood,” the witch continued in a low voice.
Ignatius grinned, his teeth showing bright in his beard. “Is it that obvious?”
“Your legend stretches far in the Dark Forest.” The witch returned the smile. “As for your Gnome friend, I will say no more.”
“What do you want in return for the information?” It seemed like everyone these days wanted something. Oriceran was changing right before his eyes.
“I don’t want anything.”
“Lies.”
The witch smiled slyly again. It was a nice smile. Ignatius found he was quite attracted to it, and he instantly felt regret for being attracted to her. She was not an enemy, per se, but she was certainly not an ally.
Now the witch sat down. “Fine, you’ve caught me. I do want something.” The smile never disappeared. “I want access to the world in between.”
Ignatius startled and leaned forward. “Keep your voice down.”
“Relax, no one is listening. Everyone here is too drunk or too stupid to believe in the world in between.”
“I don’t have access.”
“But you will.”
“Maybe, maybe not,” Ignatius answered. He sipped his ale. Steam rose up his throat, escaping his mouth and his nostrils. “Why do you want access? You surely know the horrors of that place.”
“I’d rather not say.”
“I can respect that. What if I guess your reasoning, will you then tell me if I’m right?”
The witch looked away toward the back of the tavern. A fistfight had broken out between a mountain man and an Orc. The Orc was tugging on the man’s long beard and screeching. Bets were being made in the same manner as the bets made before Ignatius downed the Firejuice.
“You will never guess it right, Mangood.”
“Don’t underestimate me.”
A few patrons sitting at the bar left to gather around the fighters. Glasses broke, a table flipped, and wood splintered.
“I will just tell you. I do not want a round-trip ticket.”
“Huh?”
“I want to get in, but I have no plans on coming back.”
Ignatius dropped his cup on the table. It landed on one of the Trolls’ toes, causing its small face to balloon in anger and turn a blazing-red color. “Sorry. sorry,” Ignatius whispered to it. He didn’t normally like Trolls, but he especially hated angry Trolls, because they grew much too big and scary for the cute creatures they were supposed to be.
He turned back to the witch, the shock still rippling through him. “You don’t want to come back? That’s suicide, you know that, right?”
The witch shrugged.
“There are dark forces at work inside the world in between—”
“And you want to join them?” Ignatius interrupted.
The witch smiled. “I see you jump to conclusions. I never thought the valiant wizard Ignatius would do such a thing.”
“I—uh, I’m sorry,” Ignatius said.
“No harm, no foul. Yes, an Earth saying. Don’t be so surprised. We Woodland Witches know a thing or two about the world beyond Oriceran.”
Ignatius cleared his throat. There was no denying the awkwardness of their conversation, but the witch seemed to take no notice of it.
“So if I tell you that I’ll help you get into the world in between,” Ignatius said, “then you’ll help me find the Gnome named Gelbus?”
The witch nodded then said, “I’ll do you one better, Ignatius. I’ll guide you to where he is. For you will need my guidance.”
He never thought he’d need guidance from a Woodland Witch. Ignatius looked around the tavern at the gathered patrons cheering and cursing at the fighters. His options were, as it stood, pretty slim as to who would or could guide him to Gelbus. He sighed and stuck out his hand. The witch took it.
“We have a deal,” Ignatius said.
“How wonderful,” the witch answered.
“But know, if you try to double-cross me, I won’t hesitate to show you my wand.”
The witch laughed. “Oh, Ignatius, I bet you’d like to show me your wand.”
He pinched the bridge of his nose. “Not what I meant…”
They shook hands. “I’m joking, of course,” the witch said.
“Good. Now what’s your name? It’d be nice to know who I’m doing business with.”
“Freida Storm,” the witch answered.
Ignatius took her hand and kissed it. She may have been a Woodland Witch, but Ignatius was a gentleman, through and through.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Frieda.”
She smiled warmly.
“Now, let’s talk somewhere a little more…orderly,” she said.
They went outside. Ignatius kept his sleeve at the ready in case things turned south quickly. Frieda was, after all, a Woodland Witch from the outskirts of the Dark Forest. Anything from the Dark Forest was hard to trust.
The sun blazed, a stark contrast to the darkness inside of Ves Ielan.
When Ignatius had turned to follow Frieda out of the tavern’s front doors, one of
