In which we make a bargain with the Lord of the Wild Hunt

After concluding the battle with the beasts known as ‘savagers’, and once we had rested and healed our most immediate wounds, we looked around for the anything which could explain the disappearance of the members of Lady Vexalia’s hunting party.
 
It took a little while for us to get a feel for the place but after a few minutes Zeni sensed the presence of a powerful magical anomaly in the centre of the clearing. Further investigation revealed that anomaly to be a small tear or hole in the very fabric of the material plane, most likely forming a sort of crude gateway into the faewild. We concluded that the members of the hunting party must have entered this portal, most likely inadvertently, and perhaps had become trapped on the other side somehow.
 
We had a brief discussion as to wisdom of following in their footsteps, given the apparent difficulty of returning, but in the end all were agreed that while there was a possibility that the hunters could be rescued, the attempt must be made. Lady Vexalia was too badly injured to accompany us, and so we made her as comfortable as possible in a nearby grove, promising to return with news as soon as we were able.
 
Raphael appeared a little nervous at the prospect of entering the faewild, perhaps because of Mab’s warnings and counsel. The title of winter knight always seems to draw a strong reaction from those who know its import, and I wish I understood more of what it meant. He insisted that we refer to him as ‘Kyros’ for the duration of this expedition, and he altered his appearance subtly as well, roughening his accent and dressing rather like a common street thug. This sort of practice, not uncommon among youthful aristocrats in the urban centres of Tal Dorei, is, I believe, referred to as slumming. As a guise, it is certainly less offensive than masquerading as a godly knight.
 
The portal, so Zeni informed us, was hovering some 10 feet above the surface of the ground, and presumably it had moved somewhat if the hunting party had stumbled in unawares. For lack of any other material, we used the piled up bodies of the savagers to make a sort of ramp up to a point from which we could easily make the jump. It was bloody and unpleasant work, but the end result was effective enough. Still, Simeon called the blessings of Sehanine on each person as they leapt and we were grateful for his help.
 
I must confess that I myself had made the jump with my eyes closed and my mind fixed on prayer. Perhaps because of that, I landed flat on my back with a jarring thump that half knocked the breath out of me. Opening my eyes and looking up, I could see a purple sky through a canopy of blue-green leaves. Everything was shimmering in a gentle light that somehow seemed to soften the edges of everything it touched. The air was thick with the buzzing of insects, and from the leafy ground a rich earthy perfume rose and mixed with the scents of huge flowers.
 
I sat up, staring open mouthed, and rendered speechless by the sheer strangeness of what surrounded us. I was distantly aware that some of the others were discussing the best way to make sure that we could find this place again at need, but I was lost in contemplation.
 
Our tales do not do justice to the faewild. It is alien and other, yes, but it is also thrumming with a glorious sense of life. Our preachers often speak of it’s glamours as shallow, and full of false majesty and empty promises. I am sure that there is wisdom in such words (and I can assure you that I was suitably wary and guarded throughout our sojourn in those lands) but I am also sure that there is more to it than that.
 
Enessa, who seemed perhaps the least overwhelmed by our new surroundings, said that she could hear the sounds of a camp some little distance off, through the trees. Moving as quietly as we could manage, we made our way in that direction, and soon all could hear the jingle of harnesses, and the whine and yap of dogs, together with snatches of conversation in voices too low to make out. Peering through the trees, we saw an extraordinary sight. Perhaps two dozen huntsmen and women were encamped in a forest glade, the majority of them elven folk, but with a wide variety of persons from eladrin to goblins amongst their number. In the centre of the group a large elf stood proudly, half naked, his head crowned with antlers like a stag. On his back he wore a great spear wound about with vines, but in his hand he held a wine cup. Others were similarly relaxed; this camp, while warlike in its equipage, seemed for now bent on revelry, not bloodshed.
 
Before we could retreat, the great elf spoke aloud, calling us forth. He made no obvious effort to see where we were lying hidden, but still, it was evident that he knew. We exchanged troubled glances, but I for one have never liked to skulk in the shadows, and so I stood, brushing leaves from my surcoat and stepped forward into the light. I was closely followed by Enessa, who I noticed had risen as gracefully and easily as if she had sprung from a comfortable chair at the fireside.
 
The man greeted me politely enough, but it was clear from the first that Enessa was the one who held his interest. He watched her light step with appreciation, his gaze lingering on the bow she carried on her shoulders, and on the silent form of Ussi padding by her side. Welcoming her as a fellow hunter, he introduced himself as ‘Lord of the Hunt’, a title which I took to have some significance beyond the current expedition on which he seemed to be embarked, and which I later learned related to the fabelled Wild Hunt, of which you have no doubt heard tales.
 
On the strength of Enessa’s status as hunter, he offered us a place at his fireside while we spoke, which we accepted, having, after all, very little choice in the matter. He indicated that our still hidden companions should come forth and join the conversation, gesturing, casually but with uncanny accuracy, at the spots where they were concealed. Some were reluctant to show themselves, but a couple of hounds sniffing around persuaded most to come forward with more or less good grace. The exception was poor Sabali, who seemed too exhausted to care even about the hounds, and remained curled beneath a tree, unwilling to stir now that he had the chance to rest.
 
The Lord of the Hunt us if we had come seeking to join his number, and Enessa demurred warily, saying that we were on a hunt of our own. He smiled indulgently at that, but I could see that he regards it as of no importance whatsoever. Raphael, his voice still that of Kyros, explained that we were seeking four men who had, we suspected, entered this forest by mistake, and who were sorely missed by those they had left behind.
 
The Lord smiled more broadly, showing an unexpected and almost implausible number of sharp white teeth, and replied smoothly that in that case we had found our quarry. Gesturing to the hounds milling at the edge of the camp, he said that Lady Vexalia’s lost men were now amongst their number, transformed into beasts and compelled to serve the hunt for all time. He had, he said, come upon them close to where we ourselves had entered the fae realm. They had been badly injured and almost helpless following their own encounter with the savagers. As was his practice when encountering strangers, he offered them the choice between becoming prey, which would in this case have been a certain death sentence, and joining his ranks as hounds, offering their eternal souls as chattel. To their great shame, and against all sense, they had all four agreed to sell themselves, losing the priceless treasure of their souls and their hope of life eternal in the celestial realm in exchange only for the petty gain of continuing to draw breath here, deprived of all reason and honour. I would have expected better of those in Lady Vexalia's service.
 
By this point it was obvious what would come next. The Lord made the same offer to us, to die at the hands of himself and his followers, or to become eternal slaves. I stared at him coldly as he spoke, even to make such a suggestion to Simeon or to myself was an insult to the gods to whom true service is owed. I was angry at his words, but I fought to suppress that unworthy emotion and to behave with dignity, as befits a sworn knight of the church.
 
Stalling for time, Enessa and Raphael asked him about his current quarry and he told us readily enough that he sought a giant named Cachalain and his followers. This giant, a Fomorian (I am still unsure whether this name is a racial or a factional description), had entered the faewild from the underdark, and was causing damage to the land. At some point during this exchange, Sabali had finally mustered the energy to join us by the fire, and he spoke up at that, betting the Lord of the Hunt that we could take down this Cachalain before he did. Characteristically, I’m not sure whether Sabali had even heard the description of who or what Cachalain was before he spoke, but he made the boast with a good degree of chutzpah nonetheless and the Lord actually seemed rather entertained by the idea.
 
If we could indeed best the Fomorian, so he said, then he would let us go free, even sending those four unfortunates of Lady Vexalia’s guard back with us, but if we failed, them we would all willingly join his hunt, as either hunters or hounds, as he saw fit. My eyes met Raphael’s and I could see that for once we were in perfect accord. Such a deal was never going to be acceptable to either of us. Death was by far the preferable outcome if it came to that. Zeni too was shifting very uneasily in her seat, I doubt that she would willingly become enslaved again, not for any price at all. Sensing our discomfort the Lord of the Hunt graciously allowed us time to confer amongst ourselves.
 
The discussion was lengthy, and at points contentious, but in the end we gave the Lord this reply. We would seek out the Fomorian that troubled his realm, and destroy it if we could, in return for which he would let us, and Lady Vexalia’s men, go in peace. Should we fail at our mission, then he would hunt us, and very likely would kill us. However, under no circumstances would we accept service in his troupe. I did not think that he would accept such a thin bargain, but to my surprise he did so quite readily, asking only that Enessa step aside and speak further with him.
 
The walked a little way away together, the Lord speaking low and Enessa looking thoughtful, and then excited, almost eager. Returning to the group, she simply shook her head when we asked her what had passed between them, and assured us that the bargain we had struck would be honoured. It was further agreed that we should have a full twenty four hours to complete the task we had committed ourselves to, slaying the giant and returning here to offer the Lord evidence of our victory. We would be allowed to spend the night here in the camp as guests, setting out at first light. Sabali in particular looked greatly relieved at the prospect of night’s rest before we set out again, but I think that we were all grateful for the chance to catch our breath.
 
The evening passed pleasantly, the evening meal simple but well prepared and the company convivial. I sat up late, listening to the quicksilver playing of the fae musicians, and the strange keening melodies of their songs. It seemed to me that in that music was contained both the fierce joy of the chase, and the deep pain of mourning for the lives they had left behind. Many of the folk here claimed to have no conscious memory of anything before they joined the Hunt, but in their song the loss was clear in every haunting rise and fall. Bittersweet, wild, and beautiful, heartbreaking in its intensity and yet lovely as the mountains at dawn. I wept to hear it, even as my heart took flight.
 
No doubt taking pity on the fascination which I was unable to conceal, they invited me to join them, one of the goblins drawing my lyre from its case and placing it in my hands. My first instinct was to demur - despite all my practice over recent months, I know well enough that my playing is still poor. Even were it not, I did not think that I could match their free abandon. After all, the church teaches self control and the mastery of one’s more dangerous emotions, and this was quite the opposite.
 
Still, they encouraged me, and perhaps it was the wine in my belly which gave me a confidence I would not normally have felt. My fingers on the strings were hesitant and stilted at first, and my voice perhaps wavered a little, but I felt the swell of the company picking up on the essence of my melody and magnifying it, reflecting it back to me as something truer, and more vivid than I had imagined that it could be. As we played on, my own contribution flowed more surely, more freely than I had felt before. It was horribly messy and strewn with errors, but even so I found the music speaking openly and eloquently of hopes and desires that I had barely acknowledged even to myself.
 
When I finally sought my rest I was not sure whether I was elated or ashamed. Perhaps both at once. I had done something remarkable, and broken or at least begun to crumble, some barrier in my mind. I was sure that I could see more clearly how to weave my own music into power, but for those hours we singers had been entirely self absorbed, and any magic we had wrought had gained its potency only from the revelation of our own pain, or our own secret dreams. Where were the gods in such a thing? Where was duty?
 
I slept uneasily, and the echoes of strange dreams haunted my mind when I awoke.