Natural Security

Co-written with Charlie

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On a day when snow is dusting lightly over the Feythorn, Lord Jaezred, dressed in a wine-coloured fur-lined coat and knee-high boots, with folders of documents and long scrolls of paper tucked under one arm, finds Carnán’s moving treehouse.

“Old man Carnán! Are you home?”

A familiar, large dire wolf’s head sticks out from the balcony just above where Jaezred is standing and lets out a small woof at him, before shrinking back. From the same balcony comes Carnán’s voice.

“Oh hello there, Lord Vandree. Please do come on in, I have just boiled the kettle.” Right on cue, the door on the front of the treehouse swings open, inviting Jaezred to enter.

“Ah. Thank you. I’d forgotten what a quaint place this is,” the drow says after climbing in. Shuffling into the reception room, where Carnán is seated in his armchair, he puts the papers he’d been carrying on the table. “I hope you’ve been doing well and your knees aren’t killing you as much, old man. I have got something of a work proposition for you — I think you’ll love it.”

Jaezred unrolls the scrolls, takes out sheets of parchment out of their folders, and spreads them out across the table. They are diagrams and notes — intricate sketches of various species of fungi with handwritten annotations, drafts of what appears to be a combination of druidic and arcane rituals, research notes on mycelia and spores. The central and largest sheet is a map of the Witching Woods divided into a few different coloured sections; long, multi-branching lines course through each section, connecting with one another at various nodes.

“Oh, no need to worry about my knees, they still have plenty of life in them as long as I don’t get too carried away running up flights of stairs or something.” Carnán lets out a small chuckle and casually looks over the papers. “Now, what is it you have here? This is incredibly detailed. Did you draw this yourself? Because it’s very impressive and whoever did it should be proud of themselves. But please, if you don’t mind, read this to me. My eyes aren’t what they once were.” He leans back in his armchair with a pipe in hand and a slight smile on his face.

Jaezred chuckles. He knows well that Carnán’s eyesight puts the keenest of eagles to shame — the elderly firbolg probably just doesn’t want to do heavy reading this early in the day. “As much as I am loath to deprive you of my dulcet tones, I think I’ll just give you the pitch. So: we had a bit of an intruder problem in the Witching Woods lately, and I got this brilliant idea to turn the forest’s ancient, underground mycelium networks into a security system. The idea is to expand these networks, meld them with one another, and join them to a central hub in the Mountain Palace.” On the map of the Witching Woods, Jaezred taps his index finger on each of the coloured sections. “The fungi should be able to detect any living creature moving through the forest and send that information in real time to us, and all without using divination magic, which everyone and their nan knows how to fool these days. Plus, we think we can also have the networks automatically trigger first-line defences, such as hostile plants and magic traps and whatnot.

“Obviously, this is a lot of nature-work and we’ll need an archdruid on board to realise this plan. So, what do you think, old man?”

Carnán takes a couple puffs from his pipe and looks down at the drawings in deep thought for some time. Then he looks out the window, at the branches of the tree that his house sits in.

“I’m afraid I haven’t done enough to be honoured with such a title as Archdruid, but I must admit I am intrigued by this…complex plan of yours,” he says. “Though it does seem as if the Oak Father has sent you to me with this at quite the important moment. You remember Delilah’s dear ex-girlfriend, Ankaa? She recently sent me a not-so-subtle message that should I leave this wandering home, she will destroy it. So it would seem I have a deal to make with you, young lord.” He takes another deep puff on the pipe. “If I help you set up this security system, I would like to take some for myself to protect my home as well. Sound fair to you?”

“Ankaa, eh? Threatening you?” Jaezred says with an eyebrow arched. “I did not realise she was being so proactive… Yes, that is more than fair, Carnán. We’d be happy to give you a smaller, portable version of this model and have you graft it onto your moving tree here.” He pauses suddenly, as if thinking over his next words carefully. “There is, however, just the tiniest thing.”

“Let me guess: Killian.” As Carnán utters the name, he stares directly at Jaezred with pure contempt and hatred in his eyes.

“Ah… How did you know?” Jaezred lets out a forced-sounding nervous laugh. His hands move to take out two pouches from his coat pockets and place them on the table — an exotic tea blend from the Witching Court and rothé jerky for Úlfr — gifts to placate the firbolg’s rage. “Yes, the good doctor will be involved in the process of implementing this system. Strange inventions are his specialty, I’m afraid…”

The instant the jerky is presented, Úlfr pads over to the table, making a soft whimpering noise. Carnán sighs, takes the bag, and begins feeding the dire wolf. It is a while before he returns to his guest, seemingly distracted by this. The strategy has worked perhaps better than Jaezred had hoped.

“By ‘implementing’, do you mean that the good doctor will be willing to sacrifice himself to feed this great mycelial network?” Carnán asks.

“Ooh, I like the sound of th—” Jaezred stops himself when he realises Carnán is dead serious. “Erm, well, as you know, Dr. Gourcuff is a subject of the Queen and so I cannot endorse any attempts to harm him. And besides, lest we forget, he has quite a few defensive spells wrought upon his person…”

Jaezred’s gaze briefly drifts towards a lemon sitting in a nearby fruit bowl, before snapping back to meet Carnán’s eyes again. Carnán looks down again at the plans and mutters to himself in Druidic. Although Jaezred does not understand a word of it, he can tell it’s not positive.

“Then I have no other choice but to once again put myself in that man’s presence,” Carnán says at last. “I will agree to help you, young lord, and the Witching Court. What is the next step I must take, or shall I wait for word from you or another?”

“Wonderful!” Jaezred clasps his hands together and grins. “We’ll let you know when we need you to come in. And I’ll promise to keep your interactions with Killian to an absolute minimum!”

“I will be holding you to that, Lord Vandree. But very well, I shall wait for your word.” Carnán reaches down and picks up the pouch of tea. “Would you care to stay for a cup or two, or does my lord have more pressing matters to attend to in the name of his Queen?”

“You know I am always up for piping hot tea, granddad. Speaking of, tell me more about this Ankaa encounter…”