Page 41 of Crowned A Traitor
~11~
The trees began to fall away, and humungous toadstools took their place. The red and white spotted heads floated high above her on thick white stalks. The path levelled off as there were no more tree roots to disturb the red brick cobbles.
Klara squatted as she heard voices further down the path. She needed something to mask her appearance. Blend into a background she could do, but she needed a potion to alter herself completely. Using that much magic on her own would only create a beacon for Abadan.
The vials, she thought. Rooting in the bottom of her bag, Klara gripped the two blue potions.
Drink, the label read in Lilith's curled handwriting. Klara pulled out the cork on one of the vials, and the liquid shone as it mingled with the air. She smelt the sweet liquid checking the ingredients. It's was a shifting glamour. It would portray her face as someone else. It would even disguise her voice.
Klara downed the slick potion and secured the second vial in her bag as the drunk Creatures passed without a second glance.They didn’t even notice me.
Klara couldn’t suppress the smile as the drunks struggled down the path.
A clearing surrounded by toadstools appeared, and at its centre sat a run-down cottage with a giant toadstool collapsed over its right side. Klara moved closer to read the broken swinging sign,Tapped.
The cottage leant to the left under the weight of the collapsed toadstool while another stalk supported it from collapsing entirely. Lilith had led her to a toadstool den.
Klara glanced at the Creatures sleeping under the shade of the caps. All having drunk their fill of fungus syrup and hallucinating about greener pastures in the Lands of Kalos. The toadstools absorbed vast quantities of magic, both good and bad from the realm that made up both Kalos and Malum. Those who drank the semi-poisonous liquid would either bask in delight or dread depending on the stalk the den had pierced.
Klara stepped over a few collapsed patrons with grins on their faces in the cobbled area outside the cottage. The fungus still holding them in its grips. Klara pitied the laid-up Creatures and how they needed the fungus to last another day in the Forest of Malum.
"Spare a coin for the tap?"
A Dark Fae clutched Klara's leg as she passed, its pointed ears poked through long white hair that shielded the fallen Fae’s eyes. Klara peered closer only to realize the Fae was blind—a side effect of the fungus.
"I think you have had enough, go home."
Klara pressed a gentle hand on their shoulder and the Fae unraveled from her leg.
"There is no home for me now," the Fae said, climbing to their feet. The Fae towered over her and staggered down the same path she had travelled. She wondered what crime the Fae had committed to have ended up in Malum.
The fallen toadstool shielded the roof of the bar, making it look like it was forever night inside. Patrons looked her over coldly as she let some light in.
Klara closed the door quickly, and they went back to their fungus. Only two small barred windows on either side of the door allowed in some streams of light.
"I'm looking for someone," Klara said at the bar. She didn't know how long the shifting glamour would last or how long it would be before the Hounds were back on her trail.
"Aren't we all?" The Leprechaun behind the bar said as he stood on a stool cleaning a glass. His green waistcoat and shining gold pocket-watch stood out amongst his shaggy customers. Only the Warlocks dressed in finery matched him.
Klara was surprised to see some Warlocks in the den. They usually remained in the Warlocks' Crest, protected from other Creatures, however the kind and the greedy often gifted recovery medicines to those who had indulged in too much fungus.
"What can I get you to drink? Dark fungus or light? He asked impatiently, and Klara resisted the urge to grab him from the stool and threaten him. His orange eyes focused on her, waiting for her to respond. There was something not right about the shadow of his eyes; he was masking something. Her fingers twitched, sensing a glamour.
Looking around the crowded den, Klara couldn't risk creating a scene. From the weapons she saw strapped to the den's patrons, it would be a hard fight to get out unscathed. Klara chose to reveal what the potion had masked to the Leprechaun alone. His eyes went wide, and the glass in his hand dropped, landing with a crash.
Quickly she dropped her hand from her arm, allowing the potion to return.
The dirty mirror behind the bar showed a face, not her own. She clutched her fists at the sound of weapons being drawn from the startled patrons.
Klara kept her back to them. Ready to reach for her axe. The Leprechaun raised his arms in the air. "My bad, back to it," He said, and there were a few grumbles as Klara watched them put away their weapons in the mirror.
A Goblin sat beside Klara as the door opened in the mirror's reflection. For a split second, she recognized the gangly limbs.Silvia, she thought as the door closed, Klara couldn't blame the Ghoul for drowning her sorrows in fungus.
The Ethereal Press sat in the Goblin's hands, the letters rearranging themselves with constantly updating news.
WANTED FOR TREASON. DO NOT APPROACH. SKILLED IN COMBAT. REPORT ONLY.
A picture formed in the centre of the paper. Thankfully Klara's hair shone blue in the picture, and her features were younger. It was the same picture that sat on her Father's desk.
