🪵 Warden of the Wex Wood

by Austin Worley

When her carriage finally trundled into the Wex Wood, Knight-Sister Arlise Dun tapped the citrine mounted overhead. A soft glow warmed the cabin as she slipped a mirror from her baggage and found a stranger instead of her own reflection. Delicate features framed by ashen tresses, dark eyes flashing with impetuous youth, silks and satins patterned on the latest courtly fashion… all hallmarks of Winfrith Lace, but they were just a pack of lies. Intricate illusions designed by her husband, Knight-Brother Beren Grau, to disguise Arlise as the Baroness of South Wex.

So far, so good. 

Gazing at the boughs and brambles, which crowded the royal highway, she fiddled with her enchanted ring. Magic hummed faintly—so faintly no normal human would ever notice—as the ring fashioned light into the proper shapes and colors. 

Mother, Prophets, please don’t let the Wood Knight see through this mummery.

For eight long months, a forest devil terrorized South Wex. The disappearance of Sir Trumwin Ryder—woodsman paramour of Baroness Lace—and two caravans on this very road marked his first wave of attacks, but evidence was too scant to say for sure. Nobody had even laid eyes on the monster and survived until a swineherd bolted from the woods, raving about some fusion of man and tree wielding a mighty spear as he slaughtered hogs and humans alike with contemptuous ease.

Baroness Winfrith Lace scoffed at such tales… until every pig out to pannage turned up dead. The rangers tasked with slaying him either returned empty-handed or never returned at all, and winter exacted a terrible toll on the barony without any pork to supplement the meager harvest. At the village temple, funeral pyres burned every single day until spring arrived with a message from the Wood Knight.

“Winfrith,” the runes carved into a dead ranger read, “stop hiding behind these thralls. You shall face justice for your crimes against the Wood, even if I must butcher every man, woman, and child in South Wex.”

This was precisely why Arlise wore the face of another woman. After all, would anything draw out the Wood Knight as quickly as “Baroness Lace” riding through the forest without any escorts? By the time he realized his prey was truly a predator, her blade would be buried in whatever passed for his heart.

So the theory goes, anyway. 

Too bad theory didn’t always align with reality. 

Prophets, I wish Beren was here! 

But somebody had to stay behind to protect South Wex just in case this ambush went horribly wrong, and the Order of Watchers hadn’t dispatched anyone else from Mossy Keep. 

At least he should be safe.

She couldn’t say the same for herself.

Outside, silvery rays filtered through the dense canopy—more than enough moonlight for what lay ahead. Especially with eyes transfigured by spirits of faith and courage. Tapping out the enchanted gemstone overhead, Arlise murmured a long string of prayers for protection.

Only the Mother knew how long she spent in prayer before the coachman cursed.

“Whoa!” Steel rims ground against cobblestones as the carriage lurched to a halt. After muttering another curse, the coachman called out. “Stand clear for the Baroness of South Wex!”

Somewhere up ahead, magic hummed. Not a soft purr like her ring or the citrine lights, but the ominous drone of a wrathful beehive. It hummed louder and louder until something burst from the road; wet crunching filled the night air; horses screamed their final breaths; a sickening gurgle rose from the coachman; oak panels splintered, then shattered outright as a massive root drilled into the cabin.

Mother have mercy!

Arlise dodged just in time, but four more roots reached up to grasp the carriage like skeletal fingers clawing their way out of the grave. They stretched higher and higher, curling over the roof, and squeezed. Both axles snapped, and the undercarriage slammed into the broken road. More wood buckled, groaning hideously all the while.

For a moment, shock held her in place, before instinct and years of training seized the reins. In a flash, she snatched her arming sword and buckler from the baggage on the floor and tossed them through an open window. None of the roots paid any attention when she clambered out after her weaponry. Illusory skirts billowed as Arlise landed without a sound… and laid eyes on the Wood Knight for the first time.

He stood less than five paces away, clutching a long spear with branch-like fingers. Blossoms blanketed his torso. More or less a natural surcoat, complete with a coat of arms: three white birch trees on a bright blue field. Although thick bark armored most of him from head to toe, the joints revealed vines which entwined to form muscles. 

A weakness… if I can get close enough to exploit it. 

Ruddy lantern light glinted off strangely human eyes brimming with hatred as he stepped over the gnarled root skewering all four draft horses and her coachman.

Something about those eyes tickled her memory. But why?

“Running for your life, Winnie?” The Wood Knight chuckled and shook his head. Long grassy hair swayed with the motion. “Not in my forest, which you’ve profaned with your loggers and hunters and swine. But you know what, Winnie? Such crimes could be pardoned if not for your betrayal. Even though we parted eight months ago, you never searched for me. Never!”

Arlise gasped. No wonder those eyes seemed familiar: she’d recognized them from a cameo the Baroness always wore. A cameo of her paramour, Sir Trumwin Ryder. 

Of course! 

All this trouble in the Wex Wood began after his disappearance, and the monster flaunted his coat of arms. Not as a trophy, but as proof of his identity.

Circling like a wolf about to cut a lamb from the flock, he snarled. “Don’t you have anything to say for yourself?”

Despite her impeccable disguise, she held her tongue. Beren’s web of illusions only ran skin-deep. A single word could unravel the entire ruse. Then what? How would this fiend react when he realized she wasn’t actually Baroness Lace? Better to keep quiet and let him gloat about his triumph over “Winfrith” until she fetched her sword and buckler. Trembling like a leaf in a gale, Arlise sidled toward the spot where they’d landed.

“Well, before you die screaming in agony, let me make a promise: South Wex will also face justice for its crimes against the Wood. May the souls of its people keep you company in the Void.”

He rapped the butt of his spear against the cobblestone highway, and magic thrummed through the night again. More roots burst from the ditch, lashing out like a nest of vipers, but she was ready this time. Drawing a deep breath, Arlise focused on the magic; on the will using it to shape nature; on the link allowing her foe to draw it from the Outerworld. Then she raised a clenched fist and choked off the flow.

Golden light flashed. Roots fell as limp as a dead man. Starved of the magical energies fueling their unnatural growth, they shriveled and blackened until only little trails of dust remained. Wind swept that final trace of the spell away seconds later.

For a moment, the Wood Knight stood slack-jawed. Horror etched itself across his gnarled face. At last, he found his tongue. “You’re not—”

Whatever else he meant to say died on his lips when Arlise slipped off the enchanted ring. While she scooped up her weaponry, emerald eyes gawked at her stark white gambeson emblazoned with a black Eye of the Mother. Moonlight glinted off a blade as pale as milk glass, highlighting tiny black flecks in the starmetal which lent it the appearance of a night sky in negative, and his expression grew even more horrified.

“A Watcher?!” The Wood Knight retreated a few steps, quivering spear at the ready, but it wasn’t long before the terror in his voice gave way to contempt. “Well, of course those termites in the village would call upon you. They can’t bear to face the punishment they deserve for plundering the Wex Wood.”

Shaking her head, she circled him in an ever-tightening spiral. “If this was actually about the woods, you wouldn’t butcher merchants on the highway or children in their beds. Folk cleared the forest where South Wex now stands three hundred years ago.”

“The Wood is eternal,” a chorus of voices said with his tongue, “and I am Her champion.”

“Spare me the self-righteousness, Sir Trumwin. Or whatever the demon roosting in your skull calls itself these days.” Arlise watched him turn to match her movements and knew she’d never get close enough to strike down the Wood Knight. Not without a ploy to draw him off guard. Fortunately, she already had one in mind. “But thank you for hinting at how this all started. Very clever, I’ll admit.”

“What?”

“You lured Sir Trumwin Ryder off the highway by pretending to represent the woods he loved so much, didn’t you? You twisted his love. Played on the pride he felt as Warden of the Wex Wood. Offered him enough power to defend this forest from poachers and outlaws. Then, when he accepted, you shattered his mind and corrupted his body.”

She gazed at the wood sprite standing where a man ought to be and shook her head again. “Maybe you’ve fallen for your own lies because enough pieces of Sir Trumwin still float around up there. But deep down, you remember the truth: all these supposed crimes against the forest are just a pious excuse. A way to justify the slaughter of innocents so you can harness the power within their blood to anchor yourself in our world.”

“Blasphemy!” Another snarl parted his mossy beard, revealing wooden gums full of perfectly human teeth, but emerald eyes glimmered with uncertainty. Just for a moment. Then they hardened, tracking her as she circled him at a faster clip. The Wood Knight gripped his spear a little tighter. Viney sinews coiled tight with anticipation, and one mossy eyebrow twitched.

A subtle tell, but not subtle enough.

Steel lanced out… only to glide through empty space as Arlise cut back the opposite direction. Before he could recover, she lunged forward. A well-placed thrust sliced through half the vines in one elbow and sap coated her pale blade. With its sickeningly sweet scent cloying at her nostrils, she offered up a prayer.

Mother Mighty, guide my hand and quicken my feet for the battle ahead.

Screeching at the top of whatever passed for his lungs, the Wood Knight staggered backwards. Terrified songbirds took flight, and the entire forest erupted as other creatures great and small fled his unearthly howls. Their cacophony drowned out her hobnailed boots scraping against the cobblestones when she stabbed him in the chest. Starmetal pierced his surcoat of flowers but didn’t even score the tough bark underneath.

Then the shaft of his spear hooked behind her legs.

One second, she gazed upon the fiend’s twisted face. The next, her skull slammed into the highway. Bursts of color blotted out everything. Right when they began to fade, cold steel bit deep into her thigh. Arlise convulsed as agony flared brighter than a full moon. The broad spearhead twisted, then ripped free, and her buckler flicked up just in time to block a fatal strike.

Mother Magnificent, steel my body and soul.

Scrambling upright, Arlise deflected another thrust. Keen steel grazed her temple, and she blew bloody strands of blonde hair out of her face. 

Prophets, if only I had my helmet, roundshield, and coat of plates! 

Alas, heavier armor had proven too bulky to hide behind the illusions, so the gambeson and buckler would have to suffice. Somehow.

Even though the Wood Knight wielded his spear one-handed now, he steadily drove her toward the back of the carriage. Not even all the strength granted by the life of a steppe noblewoman—a life which began with her birth in the saddle—could withstand his unrelenting flurry of blows. By the time she retreated behind the broken carriage, Arlise couldn’t feel her shield arm anymore.

“Stand and face me, blasphemer!”

Bloody steel flashed and only her enhanced reflexes saved her from a spear through the throat. Splinters showered her face as his powerful strike bit deep into richly ornamented paneling. In the seconds the Wood Knight spent wrenching his weapon free, Arlise lurched around the corner of the wreck.

Mother Magnanimous, light my way through the darkness of this world.

Hobbling along the driver’s side of the carriage, she frantically searched for a way to slow down the relentless monstrosity at her back. But it was all in vain. 

Why? 

Why wasn’t there some sort of sign? Hadn’t the Mother heard her prayer?

Waves of fresh agony radiated from her thigh wound, driving Arlise to her knees. Blood soaked through linen trousers and dribbled into one of her boots. Panting, she glanced back to find the Wood Knight advancing like an avalanche. His eyes glittered with ruddy light from a lantern.

Wait…

She glanced to her right, where the dead coachman still gripped his lantern with curled fingers. For the first time all night, Arlise smiled.

Mother Moral, strike down the wicked!

Her blade darted out to catch the lantern by its handle. Drawing on every last drop of strength, she whirled around and pitched the lantern at her foe. Glass shattered on impact, dousing his chest with whale oil. Instantly, the Wood Knight burst into flames. Flames that lapped at bark hide and slipped inside joints to devour him from inside out. Smoke billowed, choking her with its acrid stench, and he writhed like a dying viper.

Screaming in a thousand tongues, the fiend lashed out one last time, but she was already within reach. Starmetal cleaved through a viney wrist, and Arlise laid him low with a punch from her buckler. Blossoms crinkled as they burned, sloughing away to reveal a human ribcage. Inside, woody stems entwined an amber heart pulsing with light.

She drove her sword into that mockery of nature with all her might. Cracks spiderwebbed across its surface, drawing pitiful moans from the creature, but the heart refused to shatter.

Mother Merciful, forgive their transgressions.

Braving the bonfire, Arlise placed her full bodyweight behind another downward thrust. Amber groaned hideously as the cracks deepened. Widened. Light pulsed faster and faster. Then there was a soft crunch, and the world flared orange. When her vision finally returned, the Wood Knight lay dead at her feet.

Memories bubbled up as she stepped back and watched his body burn. Memories of how the best of intentions once transformed her into a monster almost as vile as the Wood Knight. 

The woman I was is dead, thank the Mother. 

She’d never harm an innocent again…and neither would the fiend they once called the Warden of the Wex Wood.