As the first rays of dawn hit the wet bark Karolus rubbed his eyes. He had never felt so tired. Fatigue was in his bones. Connor was still out cold and cradled in his arms. He hadn’t remembered falling asleep. 

The burning smell in the air layered with the natural odour of the forest clawed at the camp. Karolus stood and stretched. The surprise of not having frozen to death went as he saw the small fire spirits dancing by the flames of Glen’s campfire.

That was two out of the four that were now present. Glen had told him he was honoured, as was Conor. He didn’t know how you thanked a spirit but he made a mental note to try. 

Which was fairly energetic as the fat from the rabbit spit over it dripped into the flames. With every drop there was a cracking and popping sound. Karolus licked at his lips and held his stomach.

Karolus tried to wake Connor, speaking softly and giving him a nudge. But the boy was still unconscious. He still made sounds. Karolus made sure he was comfortable before joining Glen. 

The small earthen spirits had shaped the ground around Conor to give him a comfortable place to lay. There were no features to the spirits but Karolus could feel their sadness for the sleeping youth.

“They care for him.” Glen cut strips from the cooked rabbit. 

“I thought they only followed the Douén.” Karolus offered a tiny piece of the rabbit he had just been given. The small fire spirit licked out and sizzled the end. 

“Normally yes, they and the Douén share a bond that goes back to the creation times. But Tarl told me it's the elements that make the choice. Maybe this is their way of doing so.” Glen felt deeply happy the spirits were here. 

They ate their breakfast and with much drier clothing headed deeper into the forest. The plan was to follow the valley and head to an old campsite the Douén had used when Glen was younger. 

The Calvarian scouts were not following according to Glen and their silver eye magic. Karolus had never been more thankful for the aid of the earth spirit helping him carry Conor. It may have been fatigue but he swore his sibling was heavier this day.

Wet ground was about them but it was muddy, just enough to make their boots soaksing and drench the cuffs of their trousers, the wet mark rising slowly up each leg to mid calf. 

Glen spent the morning inspecting the surrounding flora with great detail. Every so often Karolus would hear words of frustration and other times contemplation. 

Glen had been mostly quiet, distracted by whatever it was they were intent on locating. The trio stopped for rest more than the day before. Confident they weren’t being followed meant they could tend to Conor easier, giving him food and drink. More of the berries Glen kept supplying.

During the rests Karolus would speak to Conor, telling him everything is ok and when he was rested to come back to them. Conor would respond as if from a far away dream. 

Having slept and calmed after breakfast, Karolus was able to start going through the events of the fire and the Calvarians being in the village. It was clear they had attacked it and with a purpose, not one that was obvious to him or Glen at this moment.  

Flashbacks of the fire ran through his mind, the flames leaping from building to building, the screams and shouts. He looked down at his brother, once Conor woke Karolus would then have to tell him of the death of their mother. 

No matter how many times he ran the scenarios through his mind he could not see a way of saving her without it being the cost of Conor’s life. Karolus told himself he made the right choice.

It was deep into the day with nightfall approaching, Glen had maintained the search they had started in the morning. Covered in mud, and soaked through again. 

“Found it.” Glen called from the base of a tree where they had started digging with their hands between the roots. Pulling up all sorts of blood red veiny roots.

Karolus walked over and rested Connor against a large tree trunk using his own cloak as a pillow for the boy. Gesture thanks to the earth spirits that again shaped the ground beneath the youth.

“Found what?” he lowered his head trying to get a glimpse of anything but tree roots and wet dirt.

Glen had managed to dig pretty deep, halfway down their forearms beneath the ground. They gripped something, gave it a test pull, satisfied they positioned their feet and began to pull upward and backwards.

Whatever it was didn't budge at first but then the strength of Glen started to win over and a long silken scarf of sorts came from beneath the soil. Hand over hand Glen pulled more and more of this pearlescent silken scarf.

It felt like such a long time watching Glen unearth more and more of this material until Karolus noticed the material was actually fighting back and trying to resubmerge itself. He was standing there open mouthed until Glen called at him to help.

Gripping the scarf behind, it lurched forwards, nearly crashing them into one another.

“Will you hold tighter!” Glen shouted at him their muscles under strain, they thought about using a potion on their belt but that meant letting go with one hand. They were worried that they would lose their chance.

Despite it looking silken, Karolus first thoughts were of the skin like texture, it was oily and slipped through his hands. He was constantly fighting against releasing it. Having a life of its own the thing forced Karolus to dig his heels in and lean backwards.

There was a moment when everything stopped, the strain of the silken skin, the muscles of Karolus and Glen, then with a mighty heave the highlanders pulled back with all their might and the silk came free of the ground and out of their grasp.

It flew into the air and a high pitch scream hurt their ears. As Karolus cupped his hands to the side of his head, trying in vein to block out the scream, his eyes widened in awe as the long silken scarf took shape. 

Whipping wildly and seemingly wrapping itself around an invisible mould it soon became the visage of a humanoid. It moved slowly but for all intents and purposes looked like a traveller wrapped heavily in a hooded robe. No face could be seen in the shadows of the cowl.

An angry whisper hissed from deep within, the body language of this entity looked aggressive and ready to leap as a disturbed predatory beast would. 

“How dare you disturb my slumber.” every word was drawn out and spat at the pair. 

Glen placed their weapons on the floor and held their arms out as a sign of no threat. Karolus was just as confused as the robed creature. Albeit less filled with rage.

“I need your help Iomadh-Ghlac , a child is stricken and I know not the healing needed.” Glen gave a low bow, their head nearly touching the dirt.

Karolus moved to Connor and put himself between the scene and his younger brother. The earth spirits all rolled to stand beside Karolus. A half dozen of them, no more than six inches tall.

The creature was Fae, Karolus tried to will a weapon into existence. His previous experiences had not been pleasant. 

Glen bowing unsettled him, they never gave ground, never allowed themselves to be subservient. Whatever the Fae creature was, Glen was playing the game needed.

“How does my name pass your lips child?” The words were still drawn out as if a strain but there was less venom in them.

“I am Glencora of Clan Hollow Tree.” Glen looked up as they spoke but then lowered their head again.

“A Clan dead, in the years of shadow. Not possible.” The moving robe lowered itself to the ground, as if crawling. Sniffing came from within the shadows of the hood.

“A mistake in the histories of the highlands. One encouraged, for my own safety.” Glen kept themselves low.

Karolus could feel the rage lessen in the area. Still standing guard, he thought of diving for Glenn's sword.

Content with Glen's explanation the Fae creature now took notice of the brothers. Its invisible gaze fell upon Conor. With a smooth glide it made itself over and levitated before Karolus.

Now in its presence Karolus could feel an etherealness about him, a cloak of comfort offering him a safe and warm place to rest. He felt tired, and swore he could see the hooded robe, arms outstretched offering embrace.

The closer they got the space around it and Karolus seemed to shrink. He felt comforted, a warming hug like that of his mother took hold. He nuzzled his head into the folks of the silken robe. His smile had been rare this last day or so and it felt good to be smiling again.

He felt multiple sharp piercing sensations across his back and shoulders, and so hugged tighter into the embrace. He would be safe here, soon the pain would go away.

“Karolus!!” Glen roared.

He heard his name and for the briefest of moments felt the cold temperature of the day, the pain of something biting into his skin was more potent. He was wrapped in the silken hood robe and was on his back an inch into the ground. Then the warmth returned and his mind softened.

Glen muttered druidic words whilst running their hand along their broadsword, tiny sigils lit up along the blade. Holding it in two hands Glen stepped over Karolus and the living robe, reversed the weapon and stabbed straight down barely missing Karolus neck.

A screech of pain nearly deafened Karolus. Followed by a shout of his own as sharp teeth ripped from his flesh. The robe began to whip out in all directions, forming shapes of screaming mouths. Karolus flapped his arms and legs trying to get away from it.

In moments he was a safe distance away after gathering his bearings and rolling away. Glen remained stoic pinning this strange creature with their seemingly magic sword.

“That was not bargained for Iomadh-Ghlac, you broke the laws, this one is bound to me!.” Glen leaned on their weapon and lowered their face to the closest screaming silk mouth.

Fingers were formed with the material and gripped at the thing pinning it. 

“From slumber you woke! Without etiquette proper, Hollow Tree!” The words held enough venom to kill a bear.

Glen gritted their teeth, knowing Iomadh was right. They had broken the laws of the Fae themselves, no summon was performed, no offered gift. 

“Then we are even?” Glen's statement got a nod from the living robe as they stepped back pulling the broadsword free.

Iomadh staggered back to something resembling standing. Its form now held straight edges, to some they looked sharp.

“Now let us speak of the child.” Glen ran their fingers on the metal once more and the sigils faded.

Karolus checked himself over, he felt blood running down his back. Torn flesh dotted his upper back and shoulders. 

“What in the name of the Drydakka is going on?” Karolus stepped to Glen, angry, confused and a breath away from screaming to the skies. 

“They can help Conor.” Glen did not take their eyes from Iomadh.

“I don’t understand?” Karolus said.

“Iomadh-Ghlac have powerful healing magics.” Glen started.

“It just tried to eat me Glen!” Karolus looked from Glen to the Fae and back.

“I know. But trust me, Iomadh can help Conor.” the look in their eyes begged.

Karolus started a response but Glen's look stopped him. He had always trusted them, never had there been a moment in their lives he couldn't rely on them.

He nodded his agreement.  

“Please, see to the boy.” Glen instructed, smiling at Karolus and turning to face Iomadh. 

The Robe moved and knelt beside Connor, Karolus made to block but Glen stopped him with a firm but reassuring hand on his painful shoulder.

A strained exhale came from the hooded part of the seemingly empty robe. It was close to Conor, moving along his body. 

“The child has been cursed. Not easy to remove. Will take time.” the forced whispering voice sounded happy.

“Cursed? No no, there was a fire, he breathed in too much smoke.” Karolus held his brother's hand. Still nervous of the proximity of the Fae creature.

“Can you remove it?” Glen asked, agreeing with Karolus but at the same time knowing they needed to push forwards.

“Yes Hollow Tree, remove.” said Iomadh.

“And what is your price?” 

“A soul for a soul.” Iomadh had a hungry lust that edged the answer.

Karolus watched Glen’s reaction. They knew this was going to be the price. 

He squeezed his brother's hand and returned Glen's smile with a nod. 

“A soul for a soul.” Karolus said the words softly to himself.

Iomadh looked to stand tall, robed sleeves outstretched. Karolus could now see many sharp teeth in the folds of the fleshly creature. 

Fear began to rise in him but he would do whatever it took to save Connor. 

“Do it.” Karolus said gently, closing his eyes.

Glen stepped up and slapped him on top of his head. Shaking her own.

“Not you, you idiot. Connor will need you when he wakes.” Glen smiled and removed their sword sheath and passed it to Karolus.

He had no choice but to take the weapon from Glen as they let go of it once it was near his hands. 

“No Glen, you can’t.” 

“I can and will. Get him to the Douén.”

Glen had never had a more serious look.

“Remove the curse Iomadh, then what is mine is yours, this I swear as Glencora, last of Clan Hollow Tree.” They said it proudly and with more confidence than most would have done in their situation.

“What's yours is mine.” Iomadh rasped as a breeze of energy whipped up about both the Fae and Glen..

Iomadh swiftly passed the pair and to Connor. Its sleeves embraced him, pulling the boy into a hug as a parent would their child. The scene was surreal and genuine at the same time.

Karolus stared at Glen, he could do nothing and it stabbed at his heart. Holding the sheath and belt his thoughts went to the sword. One swift swipe and he could end this creature's life. All he had to do was swing the blade. 

Flora beneath Iomadh and Connor started to shift and churn, creeping up the pair until it was as if they were sitting in a bush of brightly coloured flowers. Veins of light shone through with a soft purple hue.

Connor’s body arched and took a long breath before exhaling what looked to be grey flakes of scales. Iomadh made a mouth shape with their empty hood and inhaled the flakes.

It was the passing of a few heartbeats and Iomadh lay Connor back, the flora acting as a soft bed. The boy rolled onto his side and made a soft smacking noise with his mouth. Snuggling into the colourful bed, he looked peaceful.

“Pain. Taste of thieves. Dragons and their curses.” Iomadh rose to face the highlanders. The pinkish shade of their presence had dulled and small black capillaries spread across the sleeves.

“Dragon curses? What does that mean?” Karolus knelt by his brother's side stroking his forehead. He was warm and smiling. 

“Dawn, yours is mine, Hollow Tree.” Iomadh couldn't make a smile but the twisted version of the hood's attempt was horrible.

Glen nodded and turned their back moving to Karolus and Connor. They wrapped an arm around Karolus and smiled.

“What have you just done Glen?” Karolus asked rhetorically.

“We have to prepare.” they whispered as they looked at the sleeping Connor.

Iomadh lay on the ground and slowly disappeared from sight.

With the creature out of sight Karolus took a deep breath that felt like the first one since they found Iomadh.

Karolus stared at Glen for what felt like an age.

“He was running out of time.” Glen lay their head on Karolus' shoulder.

Karolus held Glen tightly.

The pair sat for a while watching Connor sleep. The temperature was chilly but not freezing. Birds made noises in the trees and smaller creatures ran along the ground and bounced from branch to branch. 

It was a peaceful moment. 

Karolus had so many questions but right now he was relieved that Connor was going to be ok. Glen nudged him to pick his brother up and they continued further into the forest. 

Karolus followed, staring at the back of Glen, listing the questions he would ask them when they stopped for camp that evening. What was Iomadh? The curse of Dragons? Clan Hollow Tree? And the most important one, was this their last day together?