Chapter 11: Chapter Eleven: Witches Grove Intro

It was late afternoon by the time they set out. First they had had to sell most of the things Qube had taken from the shops, and bought Sewer Bard a backpack. Qube was still trying to figure out the pocket magic, not helped by the fact that the backpacks disappeared whenever they weren’t in use. While that was totally normal it did make studying them slightly more difficult.

 

Still! They were finally setting off to the Forbidden Forest! Given they were to find the Forest’s heart, it stood to reason that it must be guarded by Evil.

 

“What’s in the Forbidden Forest?” The Chosen One asked Sewer Bard as Qube snatched another flower out of his hand before he could eat it.

 

“Verily, it is said that its secrets are guarded by the most beautiful wood nymphs man can think of. Hungry for love, but bound to their tree, they can greet you with either a kiss or a curse. Ah, truly they embody the mysterious nature of women.” The Sewer Bard said, sighing heavily. “It will be a true test of my ability to seduce any woman into loving me.” He wriggled his eyebrows at the Chosen One, who was engaged in trying to pry a mushroom off a log.

 

Qube had found the Sewer Bard surprisingly shy around her. For all his bluster about being “the perfect ladies man” to the Chosen One, he had turned tongue tied and silent as soon as she tried to talk to him. He was so shy he wouldn’t even make eye contact with her! She still found his bragging distasteful, especially as he seemed to be using it to try and usurp her position as the Prophecy Approved Companion, but she hoped that once he lost his shyness of her and they could have a proper talk she would be able to put him on the right path.

 

Which was Sewer Bard, not Companion.

 

Absent-mindedly Qube took the mushroom the Chosen One had managed to pull loose and put it in her ingredients satchel. She would have to examine it later on when they made camp, if only to find out if it was toxic so he would stop trying to shove it in his mouth.

 

It was nearing twilight by the time they stumbled across the witch's cabin. 

 

The only reason they’d come across it at all was because there’s been a large patch of red-leaved trees huddled together with a small path leading into the heart of it. The Chosen One’s eyes had lit up once he saw it, and he’d demanded they “check it out”.

 

As they walked down the path the trees had seemed to grow until they blocked out the sky, and their leaves had turned a deep red. It reminded Qube of Mrs Smith’s ruby red cooking pot, a thought of home that made her relax slightly. As the sun dipped over the horizon tiny wisps of blue light began to thread through the trunks and twinkle in the canopy, like the forest had replicated the stars now hidden from view.

 

“Oh man, we’re actually going to need torches to see. Sick.” The Chosen One said happily.

 

“You feel sick?” Qube asked, instantly concerned.

 

“It’s an expression.” The Chosen One said. The Sewer Bard was strumming at his lute uneasily, a pale green light leaking from the strings and wrapping themselves around the Chosen One and him. Qube wasn’t sure what it was but as soon as he finished they both started glowing softly.

 

“[Light].” He sang quietly.

 

Qube frowned for a second at him not lighting her as well, before it suddenly clicked. He’d made himself and the Chosen One targets - her job was to stay hidden in the back and heal. She felt herself warm a little to the Sewer Bard for his bravery.

 

The light illuminated more than just their way - it also allowed her to see various little dolls made from twigs hanging from some of the tree branches. Qube thought they looked pretty cute. Maybe there were some kids nearby that liked playing dolls? It must be hard, being so far from any shops that could sell them proper toys.

 

Just then they came to a clearing. The wooden cabin was sitting in the middle, smoke billowing from its crooked chimney. A verandah wrapped around it, where an old woman sat on a rocking chair. There were several neat garden beds as well, and Qube itched to examine the herbs in them. She’d never seen such a variety!

 

The Chosen One paused at the edge of the clearing.

 

“Oh, can either of you do any [Detect Evil] or anything that hurts undead?” He asked Sewer Bard and Qube nonchalantly.

 

“Either of us?” The Sewer Bard said in confusion.

 

“Focus, Sewer Bard.” The Chosen One said clicking his fingers. “Spells? What can you do, anyway?”

 

The Sewer Bard looked flustered, which Qube well understood. To be asked so abruptly to declare their spells would be confronting to anyone.

 

“I cannot.” She said, to cover Sewer Bard’s confusion.

 

“I can [Detect Magic].” The Bard offered.

 

“Do it.” The Chosen One ordered.

 

The Sewer Bard’s fingers danced over his lute’s strings, the melody short but sharp. “[Detect Magic].” he sang, and almost everything in the area lit up purple.

 

“Hmm.” The Chosen One rubbed his chin as he contemplated the area. “This is going to be a tricky one. You, Sewer Bard!” He said, “How exactly does your ‘seduce all women’ thing work?”

 

“I need do naught but display my manifold charms and they fall over themselves! It is a harsh life, to be cursed with such beauty.” The Sewer Bard said, brushing back his hair from his forehead. He hadn’t even had any hair loose, Qube thought sourly, her previous charitable feelings for the man evaporating.

 

“Right. When I give the signal I want you to seduce that old witch over there.” The Hero of All Creatures instructed.

 

“It… would be an honour to be of such service to your noble journey, Good Sir.” The Sewer Bard said with a flourishing bow. “Although I must warn you, when she falls in love with me, I will not leave her broken hearted, but let her down gently.”

 

“Yeah that’s fine.” The Chosen One said, gently pushing the Sewer Bard towards the old crone. The witch, who had been watching them the entire time, continued rocking her chair.

 

“What brave little boys…” The wizened witch said and cackled. Qube figured the witch couldn’t see her because Qube hadn’t been lit up by the Sewer Bard’s magic. Her eyesight couldn’t be too good, given how old she was. “Shall I call you Hansel and Gretel?”

 

The Sewer Bard, prompted by a poke from the Chosen One, swept a deep bow. 

 

“If it pleases you, old mother, you may call me whatever you want.” He said.

 

“Then call me Mother Gothel.” The old lady said, and laughed again, high and piercing. She really reminded Qube of a more chatty version of Mrs Smith. Qube beamed at the grandmotherly figure.

 

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“I couldn’t help but notice all the dolls you had, do you have grandchildren?” She asked.

 

“Tell me more about yourself, Mother Gothel.” Sewer Bard said, cutting Qube off quite rudely. Qube glared at him.

 

The Chosen One ignored both of them, edging his way up the stairs towards the front door. Mother Gothel’s head snapped to watch him.

 

“Sewer Bard.” The Hero said, “Go sit next to her and keep talking to her.” The Sewer Bard went and sat on the edge of one of the giant potted plants next to Mother Gothel’s rocking chair.

 

“You,” The Chosen One said, pointing at Qube. “Open the front door, will you?” Confused, Qube opened the door to the cabin. Inside it was a single room, with a single bed with a thin mattress, a cooking pot over a fireplace, a single bookcase and a cupboard filled with herbs and cuttings and a tiny window.

 

“Can you open that window?” The Chosen One asked her quietly.

 

“Of course. Would that be okay with you?” Qube turned and asked Mother Gothel. Mother Gothel ignored her in favour of listening to the Sewer Bard sing a song about his love of walnuts and comparing them to her face. Not the most romantic song Qube had ever heard, but Mother Gothel seemed entranced.

 

Qube shrugged and walking into the cabin, skirting around the obvious trap door and yanking open the window. A few seconds later the Chosen One jumped through it while crouching. It seemed a horribly inefficient way to get into places, but Qube supposed he had his reasons.

 

“Okay, we’ll need to search the place. See if you can find any traps or diaries filled with anecdotes about her eating babies or whatever.” The Chosen One said.

 

“Why would she eat babies?” Qube asked, appalled. 

 

“I dunno, she’s an evil witch living on her own in a grove. It’s what they tend to do.”

 

A part of Qube wanted nothing more than to agree with the Chosen One, and move on. Not because she agreed with him, but just because he was the Chosen One. But another part of her hesitated. 

 

“How do you know she’s evil?” She asked timidly. She winced, expecting the Prophecy to punish her. But it didn’t. She was so busy puzzling over why she almost missed the Hero’s response.

 

“I mean she looks pretty evil. And the dolls and red leaves and stuff. Anyway. I’m sure we’ll find some cool stuff here. You read the books though, I hate lore.”

 

Qube slowly began reading through Mother Gothel’s books. Each one was thick, richly bound in leather, and contained the traditional three pages of writing. They mostly seemed to concern themselves with the various histories of the different races, although a few of them were recipes for potions. Qube made a note of them, promising herself to try them out later. The Chosen One was taking everything he could and putting it in her backpack. Soon the entire room was stripped bare of everything except the furniture and fire. He’s even taken the giant cooking pot for some reason.

 

“Okay, all the gross stuff is probably under the trap door.” The Chosen One said. Outside, Qube could hear the Sewer Bard comparing Mother Gothel’s hair texture to tree roots. From the heartfelt sighs she could hear, it seemed to be working.

 

The Chosen One opened the trap door and Qube took several sharp steps backwards, almost knocking into the bookshelf. No way was she letting him throw her into any more holes without proper warning! The Chosen One noticed this and laughed, before dropping down into the darkness. Qube waited to see if he started yelling. After a few moments of silence he hauled himself back up.

 

“Was there ‘gross stuff’?” Qube asked innocently.

 

The Chosen One gave her a very serious look.

 

“Some people,” he said sternly, “have a very sick sense of humour.” Qube’s eyes widened as she tried to look past him into the darkness. What on earth could be down there to disturb him so?

 

“All I found of use was this diary. Here. Read it, then go outside. Wait. I mean go outside then read it. We’ve taken everything we need from here.” Still wide-eyed, Qube backed out of the cabin, watching as the Hero of All Living Creatures shoved Mother Gothel’s bed into the fireplace. After a solid minute, it suddenly and violently caught on fire, the whole bed blackening in an instant. He kicked the flaming bed towards the trap door. It got stuck on the edge of it.

 

“Oh for [fiddle]s sake.” He muttered, before picking up the entire bed and ramming it down into the basement. After a few seconds, the entire interior of the cabin was on fire.

 

“Ah. Ow. Fire damage.” He said calmly, walking outside. “Sewer Bard, get over here.”

 

Mother Gothel stood up as well. She seemed, thought Qube, supremely unconcerned with the fact that her entire home was on fire. As soon as the Sewer Bard left the front porch, however, she suddenly seemed to notice the fire and sprang into action.

 

“[Earth blast!]” She yelled, and the very ground beneath the heroing group was ripped from underneath them and leapt onto the flames, smothering them in an instant.

 

“Can I get a heal?” The Chosen One asked Qube as Mother Gothel ran back and forth in front of her cabin, spraying earth everywhere.

 

Qube shook herself slightly, ignoring the frenzied witch in front of her. “Of course! [Lesser Heal].” She said cheerfully, and watched as the flames surrounding the Chosen One disappeared without a trace. The Hero gave a thankful sigh and stretched.

 

“Knew you would be worth the trouble,” He said, smiling at her, “that would have been 3-5 silver lost, easily.”

 

“Thank you, I’m glad I could help.” Qube said sincerely. 

 

The Chosen One looked at the cabin, which was no longer on fire.

 

“Welp. Looks like our job here is done. Let’s go.”

 

“Wait!” Mother Gothel cried, “You can’t leave!”

 

Giant thorny trees suddenly sprung up on the path, blocking their only exit.

 

“Seriously?” The Chosen One said. Mother Gothel ignored him and pointed dramatically at the Sewer Bard.

 

“I need his heart!” She declared. “And I won’t let anyone leave until I have it!”

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