Chapter 2

"Are you sure this is the right way?" asked Parcifal who had taken point alongside Ned, Encelados firmly clasped on her back along with her shield, Erymanthos. Tiny slithers of starlight bounced off her glistening armor; the Holy Mountain engraved on Erymanthos shone fiery red. This far south in the world, the light of the starry sky was good enough for walking without hitting a tree.

"Father and I used to hunt boar around these parts. We'd find traces of the Woodkin here and there; tripped animal traps and hand-picked herbs," replied Ned with certainty, his eyes wading through the darkness of the night warily.

Ned struck the others as a fairly common young man; not too short, not taller than Parcifal. He carried an old hunting crossbow strung along the belt at his waist. With his pitch black hair and light cloth garments, he gave the impression of some sort of romantic fool.

That image was enhanced by the small leather drum he carried around on his back; no-one had deemed a drum particularly able to deal damage when the need arose.

"How can you be sure it was elves?" asked Winceham slightly out of breath as he tried to keep pace with the rest, his satchel bobbing wildly. Ned's reply was taciturn at best:

"I am."

A somewhat uneasy silence followed. Lernea gracefully trod through the thick, lush brush as if this southern, exotic forest was her natural habitat. At length she too felt the need to ask Ned:

"These elves you speak of, what makes you so certain they'll want to help?"

Ned paused in his stride, turned around and looked at Lernea with a grin that shone unnervingly even though the light of the stars was barely enough to see.

"Nothing!" he said loudly, his voice echoing faintly as it bounced off the surrounding hills. He resumed walking alongside Parcifal, his eyes glancing at everyone with obvious aggravation; apparently, he wasn't in the mood for questions. The others exchanged doubtful looks, but knew that for the time being, questions would serve no purpose other than driving Ned slightly mad.

They had been slowly climbing Silkcrest Hill, no more than an hour's reach from Hobb's Bay to the west. The minute after they had finished burying Ned's father, they had heard a rather rowdy crowd on the street, asking for them to come out and be hanged for the murders they had committed. Hobb seemed fairly adept at putting the blame on people and rousing the masses into an angry mob; Ned, Winceham and the Teletha sisters were wanted for murder, jaywalking and unlawful pillaging to boot. Without the need to talk it over, they fled Hobb's bay through obscure alleys and deserted back streets onto the nearby woods.

Ned had come up with what was now effectively their grand plan, which wasn't much as everyone had commented, but it was their best shot. Not to mention, as Winceham had put it, their only and perhaps their last one as well.

They'd seek out the secretive Woodkin elves that some said dwelt deep in the jungle where death lurked in many forms: quicksand, and poisoned plants made the jungle perilous to cross, while snakes, rockatoos, crocodiles and venom spiders tried to literally lived on reckless travelers.

Winceham made a gesture with his hands, stopped and bent over his knees; his face was a grimace, his lungs burning from the effort.

"Can't feel me legs. We need to take a break," he said in between deep, pained breaths.

"We can't stop now, not until we've found them," said Ned with a sense of urgency. He sounded annoyed, but there was tiredness in his tone as well. The sisters nodded and Parcifal unsheathed Encelados; she promptly buried it into the ground with ease. Lernea sat down on the ground and unclasped a bright, silver canteen from her belt. She brought it to her lips and drank, before offering it to Winceham who gladly downed a mouthful himself.

"What are you doing?" asked Ned in utter disbelief, even though it was plainly obvious they were taking a break.

"You can't march all through the night without some rest, Ned. Not us, not you, and certainly not half-man there," said Parcifal and pointed to Winceham with a scoff.

"Halfuin. Do I need to spell it out to you?", Winceham retorted huffing and puffing copiously. He shot Parcifal a weary look and sat down himself with a growl of exertion. He shook his head and said somewhat bitterly:

"I should've ran when I had the chance."

"You wouldn't have gone that far now, would you?" said Lernea, her words not unkind but rather playful judging by the thin smile on her face. Her look became suddenly worried though when she noticed Ned had already wandered off westwards, without so much as a word, like a stubborn child would. Lernea gave Parcifal a stern look which her sister waved away. Parcifal shrugged, resting with her hands around Encelados hilt, the blade's tip firmly dug in the ground.

"He's strong-willed, I'll give him that," she said as she looked at Ned's figure growing smaller in the growing distance.

"Well, he's bound to get lost or do something stupid. Or both. You should talk some sense into him," said Lernea with a worried frown.

"Aren't you supposed to be the diplomat in the family?" said Parcifal with a raised eyebrow and a mocking smile.

"By Skrala, sister! You can be so pigheaded!" replied Lernea and swiftly set after Ned on her own.

Winceham stretched. Some faint popping and crackling sounds were heard; he let out a sigh and fiddled with his satchel. After a while he was holding a small leather pouch and a small, delicate pipe in his hands. Those items seemed to instantly attract Parcifal's attention.

"What's that?" she asked bluntly, cocking her head sideways as if trying to peek.

"What does it look like to you?" said Winceham without affording her even a glance, too busy filling his pipe.

"Some sort of pipe, perhaps?" inquired Parcifal with carefully measured uncertainty.

"I'm surprised someone imparted with such a high level of intelligence would be so levelheaded as to ask men of lesser caliber like my person such paltry questions for the mere sake of conversation," said Winceham and lit his pipe, drawing in the smoke deeply. A smile of pure joy formed on his face and he laid himself flat on the ground, little wisps of smoke twirling intensely wherever starlight poured through as they wafted upwards around his head.

Parcifal turned her head around to venture a look towards her sister and Ned. Her eyes searched for them intently but she could barely make their shadows further up the hill, shrouded by the tall grass. They seemed to have stopped and they were probably talking by the way she saw her sister flailing her hands about her. She then asked Winceham with a rather peculiar voice, as if she was concerned someone might overhear them:

"Could I ... Could I have a whiff of that?"

Winceham sat upright slowly and opened his eyes languidly; they were red-shot, covered in a slightly glazed sheen. He looked all-too serene and calm, his face adorned with a lopsided smile that verged on drooling. He simply passed Parcifal the pipe and nodded as if his head weighed a ton, his eyes half-open as if about to yawn and fall asleep to never wake up again.

Parcifal leaned toward Winceham and took the proffered pipe in one hand. She took a drag and held it before closing her eyes, her lip curling in a slight grin. She then blew out the smoke in the shape of small circles, before handing back the pipe. She straightened her back and stood watchful as ever Encelados always clasped in her hands, her gaze and indeed her whole face standing out in the night, prouder and brighter than before. It was a stark contrast to the way Winceham looked, which resembled someone who had just woken up from a really rough night that involved all sorts of debauchery and a lynch mob.

"Thanks," she said and added: "I'd appreciate the discretion."

"Hey ... What?" asked Winceham as he looked back and forth between Parcifal and the pipe with an expression of amazed wonder as if something miraculously extraordinary had happened right in front of his eyes.

And then he thought he saw a pair of trembling flames behind a nearby bush. He blinked and saw the flames flicker wildly, before vanishing swiftly with a harrowing speed.

"What in all blazes? I must be having a bad trip," said Winceham mostly to himself and put out his pipe. Parcifal overheard him and commented:

"It's not that rough of a trail. When my sister and I had to go through the trails of Jordenfall though ... That was rough, I'll tell you that. Sheer cliffs, hundreds of feet high, slippery ice every step of the way and bone-deep cold that made your teeth hurt just by breathing." Her face was cringing but her voice carried a bitter sweetness. It was the voice of someone who reminisced better times. Winceham eyed her with a worried look, his brow furrowed.

"Are you sure you're okay? Not feeling lightheaded, sleepy, giggly, silly, weird in many different ways?" he asked her with genuine interest. She took a moment to think, shook her head and replied earnestly:

"No ... Couldn't be better. Top notch."

Winceham was looking at her puzzled beyond understanding when his eyes bulged up with sudden terror. He saw the trembling flames from before, trailing orange light in their wake. They were attached to the head of furry white bunny where its eye sockets should be; the hopped about, not further than a few feet away.

Winceham's jaw dropped and he looked at his pipe before staring at the bunny mesmerized. The bunny paused as if it knew, stared back at Winceham and smiled unnervingly before hopping out of view and into a burrowing hole.

"Did you see that?" he exclaimed as he got up on his feet and poked Parcifal in the arm repeatedly. She was instantly energized; she drew Encelados out of the ground and swung it around her wrist expertly, poised to strike unerringly.

"Enemies? Where? I see no-one! Are they using trickery or magic?" she cried and swung her sword randomly through the air.

"The bunny! Didn't you see the bunny with the flaming eyes?" asked Winceham with an unsteady voice and pulled out a stiletto from his belt. The blade was dull, thin and long like a spike. It had been quite some time since it had been last used.

"A bunny?" asked Parcifal with sudden coldness in her voice as she lowered Encelados and frowned, pouting her lips.

"A rabbit, a hare, a tiny white fluffy thing that hops around all the time! Didn't you see it?"

"Are you feeling ill?" she asked and looked at Winceham sideways.

"Could be, could be. But you're feeling fine, right?" he asked with expectation, twirling the stiletto in his hand nervously.

"Invincible, really," said Parcifal with a grin.

"Great, that's great. I'm not having a bad trip, it's just that something actually weird is going on," said Winceham and sighed. He collected his thoughts for a moment before trying to convince Parcifal that a strange rabbit with flaming eyes was in the vicinity. He felt that stressing the flaming eyes bit was essential since normal rabbits when mixed with fire can't hop, at least not when roasting on a spit.

"Parcifal, look. It might seem strange but there's a bunny with its eyes on fire hopping around us. I think it saw us. We must be very careful, stay still and keep our voices down. I can't stress enough that it's eyes are on fire and it's not dead yet," said Winceham as he scanned the area around them inch by inch, expecting to catch a glimpse of the strange rabbit. Parcifal eyed the man with a sudden sorrow and shook her head, feeling sorry for him.

"Poor Mr. Abbermouth, I hadn't realised you've turned senile until now," she said regretfully, her voice genuinely sad.

"I'm not senile! And I'm not that old! Is it that hard to believe I saw a bunny with flaming eyes?"

Then as if out of nowhere a robed, hooded and masked man sprang from a nearby bush behind Parcifal and leaned respectfully towards her ear. The man waved his hands and fingers in an elaborate gesture and whispered to her in a thin, gentle voice:

"There is no bunny."

Winceham was stunned into silence. He was thinking that perhaps he should point out that there was a strange man right behind Parcifal whispering to her ear, but decided to wait until she acknowledged that herself, just to make sure he wasn't imagining things.

"Who are you?" asked Parcifal as she turned around to face the stranger with Encelados readied in her hand. She appeared calm, yet mindful of the stranger who seemed to be unarmed.

No answer came. Instead the man simply stood there, frozen like a statue, his hands clasped together as if in prayer. His eyes remained closed and he hardly seemed to breathe.

"Will you not answer me, stranger?" Parcifal demanded of him.

"Maybe he's right, maybe there is no bunny," muttered Winceham when he suddenly saw the same white bunny as before break through the ground from behind Parcifal. It stood there with it's eyes locked directly onto Winceham's gaze. Its nose twitched and Winceham saw the flames flash wildly for a moment, right before an intense feeling of chillness crept up his spine and made the hairs on his head stand. Then he saw the rabbit grin at him mischievously, dig back in and disappear from sight.

Winceham was pointing to the ground in stunned silence, with eyes wide open and his arm trembling when Parcifal said to the silent stranger:

"I am Parcifal Teletha, scion of Phedra Teletha and Helios of the Teletha family of Nomos, princess successor and adjutant to the Throne, in exile. Now that my lineage is made known, speak of yours or insult and anger me at your peril."

Her tone was noble yet carried determined menace. It was easy for someone to see she meant every word by her thunderous stare. The man opened his right eye, peeked at her momentarily, and then closed it and simply stood there just like before, as if choosing to ignore her.

"The bunny. It was right behind you Parcifal, I swear." said Winceham.

Parcifal turned and shot Winceham an angry look. She added with exasperation:

"I don't care about your delusions! What manner of person is this man who refuses to talk, as if I'm not even here?" she said pointing at the man with Encelados' tip. Winceham had no other option but try to sound convincing yelling at the top of his lungs:

"I'm not delusional! It dug its way up right behind you barely a moment before!"

"Oh, grow up!" said Parcifal dejectedly. Winceham couldn't help but explode:

"I'm a hundred and thirty two years old, this is as grown as I'll ever be!"

And then they heard Lernea's voice in commanding, boisterous tones:

"By Skrala, stay your loud mouths!"

Winceham and Parcifal turned and looked at Lernea with red, flustered faces from all the shouting and yelling. She threw them a scolding stare but what caught her eye was the strange man and the fact he was looking straight at her. She was confused for a moment. When she stared back at him with all the nobility she could muster under the circumstances, she asked him:

"Pray you, stranger, state your name and business lest we consider you unkind towards our persons."

The silent figure was shocked into motion, taking a sudden step away from everyone else, his arms extended in a purely defensive gesture.

"You can see me? Impossible!" he said to Lernea, stressing the last word as if the absurdness contained was certain.

Lernea and Parcifal exchanged a quick look. Parcifal nodded affirmatively while Lernea replied with an indifferent shrug. Winceham said then visibly irritated:

"They can see you alright! It's that monster of a rabbit they think I'm making up!"

"I beg your pardon! Bo is not a monster!" said the robed man insulted, instantly letting go off his prohibitions concerning the fact he was completely visible to everyone involved. He took off his mask and hood as well, revealing long fair and silver dreadlocks of hair, and a pair of pointy ears that stood effortlessly upright. He protested:

"Bo is very kind and completely harmless. Not a monster at all. I demand you take that back!" said the stranger with the flair of someone who isn't really used to demanding things of people.

"It's eyes spout flames!" shouted Winceham, being extravagantly descriptive, making weird hand gestures and bulging his eyes to make his point.

"That's just a condition!" cried the stranger with a surprised look of feeling suddenly outmatched and unfairly accused.

"Is it now?" exclaimed Winceham flailing his hands about him, laughing in spite of himself in disbelief.

"You haven't answered us, stranger," demanded Parcifal, a hint of aggression in her tone.

"Yes, who are you? And how come your hair is that fair and weird-looking at the same time?" added Lernea with an inquiring furrow of her brow.

"Shut up!"

Ned's roaring shout attracted everyone's stare. He cleared his throat and said with an inspiring voice, the voice of a true leader:

"The clock's ticking. Stop mucking about with nonsense. The people we're going up against are extremely dangerous. Our lives are in mortal peril. Always keep that in mind."

Everyone remained silent; Parcifal smiled thinly and nodded, while Lernea added:

"Ned's right. I for one, agree."

Winceham suggested mildly:

"What about the rabbit?"

"Bo? He's always around, I wouldn't worry about him. Say, what brings you around these parts?" said the stranger with the pointy ears and strange hair with an awkward smile.

"You're Woodkin, aren't you?" asked Ned. The stranger gasped; he was once more shocked into silence for a moment before managing to stutter slightly:

"How ... How do you know that?" he said with a tremor in his voice.

Winceham cut in abruptly:

"The pointy ears, the fair, weird hair. The silly hood and mask. That's just like you people."

The stranger shot an off-beat glance at Winceham and managed to sound actually hurt:

"What do you mean, 'you people'?"

"We even know the bunny by name, but not yours. My patience is spent!" said Parcifal and raised Encelados threateningly. Ned lowered her arm and said:

"Calm down now. What is your name, woodkin?"

The woodkin looked at the sword's blade respectfully and then addressed Ned with a slight bow:

"My name is Hanultheofodor Trypthwifidyr."

Ned seemed to cringe at the thought of uttering the name fully, so he simply offered his hand and smile thinly but reassuringly. The woodkin obliged him somewhat awkwardly after noticing that everyone had their eyes fixed on him. As he shook hands with Ned, Lernea told him:

"Take us to your leader!"

It would have sounded commanding and perhaps a little intimidating, if Parcifal hadn't been petting the white bunny with the flaming eyes with giggly excitement.

They passed a series of crests and low hills shrouded in ever-thickening bush and tall, wide-trunked trees. The savanna forest had indeed turned into a jungle proper, full of mangroves and palm trees, thick grub and lush flower plants blocking their way. 'Theo', which was how everyone called Hanultheofodor for practical purposes, knew the terrain well enough to avoid the thicker parts, but occasionally he had to use his machete to cut a path through. The air smelled of sweet but deadly flowers and acrid sweat as the wetness of the place became bothersome.

Their progress was just as slow as before; Parcifal had dubbed it half-man pace and Winceham had insisted on at least calling it a halfuin pace for the sake of proper interspecies etiquette. He had quietened down soon afterward though when he became acutely aware that being so short and therefore close to the jungle floor bed was disadvantageous at best; the realisation came after he had stepped on a snake thicker than his arm and longer than imagination allowed for.

The snake had been easily dealt with a chop from Parcifal's blade. She made Winceham owe her one and even placed a bet that he'd owe her more further down the road.

With the woodkin village still out of view, Parcifal and Theo were leading the way. Encelados was drawn in her hand should anything try and surprise them; she had more than balked at the idea of using her blade as a grass-cutter. Even Lernea admonished she had only once seen her sister so frightfully indignant.

They walked silently, taking care not to step on something that could bite back, each one lost in their own thoughts, for their own reasons. At length, Theo asked Parcifal:

"So none of them followed you?"

"None that we could see, no."

"Which reminds me, I have to ask: How is it that your sister could see me?"

Parcifal found the question nonsensical at best, but her blinking stare failed to convey that feeling to Theo. He waited for an answer, smiling affably, while the only thing Parcifal could conjure in words was:

"Is that a question? You want to know how it is that my sister could see you?"

"Of course! Counter-spelling an illusionist's Ethereal Trance is a remarkable feat for someone not versed in the art of Choujou," said Theo and Parcifal raised an eyebrow. She suspected Theo, their informal but helpful impromptu guide, had thought he could turn invisible for some weird reason that might or might not include an unreasonable amount of dreamhops or fuddlegrass, just like the kind Winceham had shared with her.

"You are the illusionist you are referring to, I'd wager?"

"Indeed. Are you familiar with the Choujou school of magic?"

"Not really, no," replied Parcifal with a weary voice.

"Ah, its tradition goes back thousands of years. The ever-grazing mist of time has long ago obscured its deepest secrets, but my people have preserved its legacy and the source of its real power," he said as he cut a thick, rich cluster of foliage with a few chops of his machete.

Parcifal was suddenly intrigued at the mention of the words "secrets", "power" and "my people". The thought came to her that perhaps Ned had been right to convince them to seek the Woodkin.

That was, if of course the rest of Theo's kin had a firm grasp of this witchcraft he talked about. Because it was her informed opinion that the young woodkin elf was a bit lightheaded, to put it mildly. She had no idea what to make of his peculiar animal companion though, other than stew.

Bo hopped in and out of the ground, the flames in his eyes lighting up the path ahead with a warm orange light. The bunny would at times pause, raise itself on its hind legs and shoot the party a glance before burrowing in the ground, only to appear a couple of minutes later down the path as suddenly as it had disappeared. But it never strayed away from Theo for too long; that did not escape Winceham's attention.

"See it? There; and there it is again. It just keeps doing that," said Winceham to Ned with a raspy, aggravated voice.

"It's just a bunny, Winceham. Leave it be. There are far worse things that may roam about."

"It keeps staring at me at the oddest of times, Ned. I swear."

Ned shook his head and looked at Winceham sideways while he said: "It's just your imagination, Winceham. It's been a long, difficult night and it's only a couple of hours until dawn breaks. Your eyes are playing tricks, that's all."

"What about its eyes, Ned? Hm? What about those flaming eyes?" asked Winceham with a worried expression.

"Like he said, it's some condition or other. I've heard of stranger things; of wild beasts that will turn you into stone, and lurking horrors that can drain your soul with a single touch of theirs. A rabbit with flaming eyes doesn't sound all that dangerous."

"Those were the drunken tales of rabid sailors, Ned! While this ... This abomination is right there, watching me," said Winceham with a half-crazed look on his face.

"I recall yourself as well sharing such morbid tales of fascinating creatures in the past. Could this be just another fantasy of yours?" asked Ned with a gentle smile.

Winceham made a gesture of acceptance with both hands and replied:

"Now, I may have from time to time exaggerated concerning some of my former adventures, especially when women and riches were mentioned, but it was merely in order to put some polish in the boring details. This though ... This rabbit. It has its eye on me, I tell you."

Ned stopped and took Winceham by the shoulder. His face became grim, his voice unusually stern and cold:

"I've invoked Nadragatea on you, Winceham. This is one tale you'll have to follow to the end, you know that. Don't just pretend; your life depends on that as well."

Winceham looked instantly and genuinely hurt; his eyes searched Ned's face for signs of the young lad who had grown into as much as a friend as his father. He saw little of the boy he remembered; instead, he was looking at a strong-willed man, indeed more than the boy's father had ever been.

"You're right laddie, I'm full of it. Well, sometimes. I'm just saying, I don't like that bunny one bit, that's all," said Winceham, sounding apologetic.

Ned nodded with an understanding look. He motioned them to move on again even as Lernea caught up from behind, where she had been scouting from the last hilltop they had climbed down from.

"Nothing, for as far as I could see. No-one is on our trail. If someone's out this far to get us, they're probably lost someplace or coming at us from a totally different direction. No torches or lamps, or light of any kind," said Lernea, a little short on breath.

"You don't know what to expect from Hobb. It does make sense though; they sent a mob after us, but we weren't there. As long as we're out of the picture, Hobb will have the Sniggering Pig to himself anyway. As far as he's concerned, we've turned tail and ran, never to show our faces again," Ned told Lernea, who in turn asked:

"What about the ape-man? Won't that man, Culliper, seek revenge for his comrade?"

"Culliper?" cut in Winceham with a snorting laughter full of disbelief and added:

"That sea-maggot is a slave-driver, pure and simple. The only thing he cares about is his hide and his loot. For the right coin, Culliper could be working for anyone. Though I hear those ape-men are hard to come by, I wouldn't worry about Culliper. Not until we meet him on our own terms."

Ned nodded in agreement. He had a bitter, austere look carved across his face when he said:

"You leave Culliper to me when the time comes."

"When the time comes, Ned," repeated Winceham with rare somberness. Lernea was about to ask something when she saw her sister only a few dozen yards up ahead signal a message with her hands. Parcifal had stooped low, her gaze wandering, searching for something in the night. Lernea nocked an arrow when she saw Encelados' suddenly glow faintly; the glow became stronger with every passing moment. She signaled back at Parcifal who acknowledged with a simple nod. She had to reign in Theo's mouth with her free hand. It seemed to her that the woodkin had a very vague idea of danger, as something that could only affect other people.

A faint hope of Winceham being mistaken in his assumption that something was amiss sprung up inside him. He felt he had to ask in a low voice:

"The sword's glowing? Is that normal?"

She simply shook her head and without turning her head replied:

"Something evil lurks nearby."

Ned fed a bolt in his crossbow and readied it in his hand, even as Winceham drew his stiletto and headed off amidst the thick brush.

"Where are you going?" asked Ned with urgency.

"I'll scout around. Need to make myself sparse if I am to strike from the shadows, lad."

"It's a moonless night, there's shadows everywhere," said Ned sounding confused.

"Exactly," said Winceham and nodded to Lernea who afforded him a thin grin. Within a few moment, he had melted away into the shadows that abounded, as if he'd never really been there.

"How did he do that?" whispered Lernea to Ned.

"He's a thief," said Ned as they warily made their way closer to Parcifal and Theo.

"Retired," she hissed and Ned simply shrugged.

"Makes for a weak alibi in some lands," he replied and Lernea shook her head. As they approached Parcifal, they saw her hand-signaling furiously; her face was almost obscured in the shadow of a nearby tree but they could see her face was taut with bone-breaking intensity. The hand signals were confused, hasty; Lernea couldn't make out what her sister was trying to tell her in silence. She shook her head and waved her to repeat, while Ned was right beside her, aiming his crossbow at a thick patch of utter blackness that seemed most inviting for something that could be lurking out of sight.

He then noticed the bunny; it was looking straight at him, the flames from his eyes having died down to a pair of crackling embers. The bunny curled its tiny lips into an impossible grin just for Ned alone to see and hurriedly burrowed inside the ground in an instant.

Parcifal seemed to sigh even as Encelados began to glow fiercely, casting harrowing shadows of Parcifal and Theo around the thick brush. Parcifal repeated her message but to no avail; Lernea shook her head again.