Manda Turnbuckle braced herself against yet another gust of wind swept across the moor. She glared at the hill in front of her. The bare, unremarkable hill. It had been a long journey - halfway across Glorien from Frandylshyn to get a ship to Gwynddon, that ship attacked by Vilborg pirates, the long trip North after finally landing at Newpira. All leading to a rocky hill that did not look much different than a half dozen she passed on the way to it. Could that idiot druid have been wrong? Or even lying to her? He had definitely been reluctant to tell her the secrets of the fae. Just as definitely, she thought bitterly, he had certainly enjoyed her…methods…of persuading him more than she had.
“Don’t find too many rhyfedd standing out in the middle of the moor. And a gnome at that.”
Manda froze. She hadn’t heard anyone come up behind her. With the wind, how could she? But it seemed she could see for miles. Where had the person behind her come from? Slowly, she turned around.
Before her stood an old woman, slightly stooped but still looming a couple of feet above Manda. Only a craggy face with a senile grin and a gnarled hand holding a large sack over her shoulder emerged from her threadbare cloak.
“Are you in the habit of sneaking up on guest in this blighted land?” Manda transferred her glare from the hill to the old woman.
“Now, dwp, that being far from my meaning. Old Mab just seeing if you is lost. A thousand pardons, but from afar, you seem a bach, a child.” The old woman bobbed her head as she spoke, as if to add extra punctuation. “And in such a rare place as this, too.”
“Rare place? A wind-blasted moor next to a barren hill? Oh, I had been promised it was a rare place indeed. One where I could find the queen of the fae. There is a certain druid who is going to rue deceiving me!”
“A druid, you say? Not many of them be telling the secrets of the fae. Too much trouble in it.”
“Well, I have certain assets that can get men to tell me many secrets.” Manda ran her hands down the sides of her bodice.
“Aye, bountiful assets at that. And you are young and fresh-faced, unlike Old Mab. What do you need with the queen of the fae? A tricksey and unreliable people they be.”
“She will grant me the boon of eternal beauty. I won’t be young forever. And, well, I often need to get intimate with those who don’t deserve me. I am destined to greatness. Men and women will revere me. All I need is this boon.” Manda briefly wondered why she was being so candid with this hag. That worry quickly left her, as if blown away by the wind.
“The fae are not known for being generous. The queen herself being most stingy with her gifts. What would you offer in trade?”
“Trade? I am fated to glory and rule. She’ll be well satisfied to be owed a favor.”
“Then, sure I am that she’ll agree. Though favors to the fae are oft not ones you want to owe.” The old woman let out a rasping cough. “I must be away. This wind is no good on old bones.
“And your druid steered you not wrong, butain. That there is a fairy mound. But the veil between here and the land of the fae only drops by moonlight. If you want to try your luck, come at night, when the fae dance.”
Manda sighed. Her journey was still not over. Muttering to herself, she turned and paced away.
“Fare thee well, Manda Turnbuckle,” she heard the old woman say. Manda whipped her head around. The moor was as empty as it had been when she arrived.
She had never told the old woman her name.
Den of the Red Wolf 