Captain Montague’s weapons were back in-hand in a flash. “Aye lad, good watch out,” she said, “and a big’un by the sound of it.” She looked at Ian. “That’s no fairy, Mr. Blackwing.”

  “You don’t know that,” said Esme, hurrying closer to the others, “No sprite, clearly, but fairy kind come in all shapes.” She spat. “Beastly things.”

  They stood in silence and listened to the noise, watching the shaking of distant leaves.

  A person wouldn’t be that big. An animal wouldn’t be so clumsy. Ian doubted a fairy would be either, but maybe Esme knew better.

  “Get behind me, lad,” said Montague, pointing her blade at Jamie and flicking it back to indicate a more tactical position, “I need ya t’stay alive so y’can heal me, since no one else here had the sense to bring a blade.”

  “If it is a wild beast,” said Ian, “try not to provoke it.” They may yet be able to avoid a fight.

  Something massive crashed into an equally massive oak tree just ahead. Ian squinted into the shadows and reconsidered his previous conclusion. What could be that big, and that close, and yet unseen? Fairy magic was almost certainly involved.

  An ear-splitting roar erupted, scattering small birds and other small animals, as well as dust and leaves. The tree groaned, and then there was a loud crack. The wood creaked and splintered, and the entire tree leaned towards them. And then leaned faster.

  “Ho!” Montague dove to her right, out of the way of the falling trunk, and then rolled back onto her feet. Behind her, Esme and Jamie each leaped to one side, though they hadn’t quite gotten the rolling part and both of them hit the ground.

  Ian, directly behind the Captain and between the other two mages, also tried to dodge. The trunk caught his shoulder, and there was another cracking sound from much closer. “Ah!” He had dodged to his right, after Esme. This was unfortunate, because it meant he was farther away from Jamie with the huge trunk between them. It was fortunate, however, because it meant that it was his left shoulder that was injured. That would limit the magic he could use, but not so much as if it had been his dominant arm.

  Ian picked himself up and watched Esme scramble to her feet. He couldn’t see Jamie, but presumably he was doing the same thing on the other side of the tree. Through the ringing in his ears, Ian heard the crack of Montague’s pistol and the thunk of metal chopping into wood. Clearly she had decided that battle was necessary, and he thought he’d have to agree.

  Shaking his head, the rest of the sounds of the forest returned. At the moment that was mostly the others shouting. Ian looked towards the shattered stump. The creature was a bear, though by no means an ordinary one. It was larger… probably. He realized he wasn’t quite sure how tall bears ordinarily were. They were quite large, weren’t they? Maybe this one wasn’t particularly—Ian shook his head and slapped himself on the side of his face with his good arm. “Focus, Blackwing!” he snapped at himself.

  The bear was certainly no ordinary bear, even if Ian was uncertain whether or not its height was ordinary. It had tree bark covering is chest and upper arms—upper forelimbs? The bark was like armor, but he didn’t see how it was worn. It looked more like it was growing over its body. Its face was also… wrong. He’d never seen a bear up close, but it looked different from pictures. And its eyes were unfocused. It was wrapped in thorny vines.

  “That’s a dryad’s doing!” hissed Esme.

  “Would a dryad destroy trees?” asked Ian.

  “A dryad is a tree, but why should it care about destroying other trees any more than a human cares about destroying other humans?”

  Ian supposed that made sense. He watched Montague engage the beast. She was light on her feet and dodged the swings of its massive arms and sharp claws, but one blow would knock her clear across into the trees behind them. And there was something else. Something glittering green and gold. “Ah!”

  “A sprite,” said Esme grimly.

  The tiny figure was shaped like a human, though perhaps more like an elf. Maybe a goblin? He was beautiful and delicate, child-like in a way and yet clearly far beyond Ian’s years. He laughed, a light, cheerful giggle that cut through Ian more sharply than any more menacing laugh would have. His wings were an insect's wings, multiple layers of dragonfly wings with a golden hue. He touched the bear’s ear and leaned forward to whisper into it.

  Then he burst in a shower of golden dust, splattering the side of the bear’s head with something green.

  “Beastly things,” said Esme, her hand outstretched in a spell.

  The bear froze for a moment, and swayed where it stood. It looked lost, bewildered.

  Then it roared in Montague’s face. It swung its claws down on her, and she barely stepped back, trying to deflect the blow with her blade. “It’s faster!” she shouted.

  “It was mesmerized,” said Esme, her face unconcerned, “Now its mind is clear, but it isn’t being pushed to attack us.”

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  “But now it’s just p—”

  The bear’s other arm caught Montague in the side and launched her into the air. She would have come down twenty feet away, had there been space for her to fly that far. Instead she crashed into one tree trunk and flipped around it, dropping her weapons and landing wrapped around another. She groaned. It might be a moment before she was back in the fight, Ian realized. Too bad she’d also been launched away from Jamie.

  And now there was nobody between Ian and the bear. He considered his options. His life drain spell would be very effective against a creature so large, and empowered by the looks of it by plants. That would be life magic. He could siphon it away. But that was a double-edged sword, because a creature so robust might shrug it off entirely. It would be effective, but only if it worked at all. And that spell was hard to do with one hand. “Are you there, Jamie?” he called out.

  The Boy appeared over the trunk, breathing heavily as he tried, and failed, to haul himself up. The acolyte was not athletic. Montague really was the only one present equipped to survive in the forest, assuming she survived this encounter.

  Ian threw a handful of flames at the bear. Wood burned, right?

  “That’s live wood!” said Esme, “Wood only burns well when it’s dry.”

  Okay, well, maybe she knew a little about the woods after all. The fire did serve a purpose, though. While the flames scattered harmlessly against the beast’s wooden breastplate, the bear did back away. Swiping its paws at the sparks in the air. It turned away from Ian.

  On the other side of the fallen trunk, Jamie slipped and fell back out of sight. Ian heard the crash and the cry of distress.

  The bear turned and lumbered in that direction.

  “No!” shouted Ian, “We can’t let it hurt him!”

  “I think that would be pretty easy, actually,” said Esme.

  “We need him, he’s our healer!”

  “Oh yes, of course.” Esme held out her hands again. While Jamie was out of sight, the bear was more than tall enough for them to see it over the trunk. That… might be advantageous.

  The witch moved her hands in ways that were almost unnerving. Her fingers twisted into patterns that fingers shouldn’t have been able to twist into, though Ian couldn’t say why. The syllables of her incantation were a harsh whispering grunt that didn’t sound like any language, more like nails scratching and tearing. The vines wrapped around the bear started to come loose. And a loop fell around the broken end of the tree trunk and snagged. The bear continued to lumber closer to where Jamie had fallen, and the vine tightened around its neck. It stumbled, and its breath came out in a hacking, gasping cough. It staggered back and pulled at the vine.

  “Curse of unluck,” said Esme, “if it holds there I might be able to undo the fey magic.”

  Ian saw another loop of the vines come loose. As the bear thrashed, it flopped over the trunk of the oak onto their side. He lunged for it.

  The bear was robust, but these vines were kept alive even though they weren’t rooted. That was life magic. He could drain the life from the vines. Ian’s good hand closed on the vine. A surge of pain reminded him of the thorns, but he only tightened his grip. His hand burned, and the burning laced down his arm. Oh good. Poison again. Ian planted a foot on the trunk and leaned back, pulling physically even as he pulled magically, drawing the energy of the spell on the vine out of it and into himself. It wasn’t real healing, but it would help him endure.

  The vine withered, cracked, frayed. And then snapped, and he fell as it broke. “Ow.” For a moment he lay there. His injured shoulder thumped with pain. Hitting the ground had not helped that situation at all. He started to push himself to his feet, but as he touched the ground with his other hand he realized how torn up it was and fell back again as pain coursed through that as well.

  “Did you want to save the child, or not?” Esme hissed at him.

  Ian bounded back to his feet and looked at the monstrous beast. Had it grown smaller? Esme’s curse was breaking through the fairy magic that had empowered it.

  Esme grinned a Wicked grin. “Oh look at that Ian,” she said, “the wood is dry now. That was clever, killing the wood.”

  He blinked at her, no idea what she meant. “Oh!” He turned back to the bear once more and hurled more fire at it. It was free of the vines, but it bellowed as its armor burned. Ian kept up his spell, leaning into it and putting as much power as he could. The handful of flames erupted into a wave, and the fire engulfed the beast. It turned and dropped to all fours, running away from them into the woods. It knocked over a few more trees, but none so large as the great oak. “Oh no, that’s going to start a forest fire.”

  “I hope it burns the whole place to the ground!” shouted Esme.

  “...while we’re in it? And before we’ve found your house?”

  “No. That wouldn’t be ideal.” She sighed. “Keep your nose up for smoke, but I wouldn’t worry overmuch. It was smoldering, but you didn’t keep the fire on it for long enough for it to really catch. People think wood just goes up like that,” she snapped her fingers, “but getting a fire going does take a little more than that.” She half shrugged. “Usually. Fire can be unpredictable. Maybe don’t do that in the forest any more.”

  “Jamie, are you there?” called Ian.

  “Y-yes Ian,” he answered. He started clambering over the tree trunk again.

  “Jamie,” Ian closed his eyes, “just go around. The beast is gone. You can take a few extra seconds. I need your help, but see to Montague first.”

  Soon enough, Jamie had the Captain back on her feet well enough that she was able to stand and stow her weapons. He turned to Ian then and healed his arm, before returning to continue working on the Captain. She’d be pretty badly injured, but that’s why they’d brought someone with healing magic. While she was recovering, Esme built a fire and Ian lit it with magic. His skill with fire magic was improving, and it looked like it had gotten a little more powerful too. Ian saw to the food. It was awful, but Esme scarfed it down all the same.

  “Ian,” whispered Jamie, his eyes on the witch, “she—she popped that fairy like a bubble.”

  “I saw that, yes.”

  “That’s horrific!” Jamie’s eyes were wide, and it looked like he might cry again.

  “He was trying to kill us, Jamie.”

  “But why was he after us in the first place? We didn’t do anything to provoke the fair folk. Ian, what did she do? Who is she?”

  “Eh,” Ian waved him off, “for now, she’s with us.”

  ESME JOINED THE PARTY!