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“I have been wondering that myself. I have a theory.”
“Oh?” She arches her brows. “Let’s hear this.”
“I believe the magic not only crippled the tree’s leaves, but it also gave it the ability to move. And things that move, often, are things that think, even if it’s only in a crude way. I think that the tree let Moldar go as a means to lure more victims to its fell grove.”
“You think it’s that smart?”
“With magic, anything is possible. It possesses a low cunning, at the least. Not only did it use Moldar to lure more of us to it, but it also used my tracker to draw the rest of the search party into its clutches.”
“Well, if it took out your entire party, what chance do you and I have?” Paige shakes her head. “I want to help, but maybe … I hate to say it, but maybe we should just keep away from this area of the forest. Let the tree have it and move on.”
I give this some thought. Actually, when I was down in the well, I had much the same idea. But one thing stopped me, as it does now, from carrying it out.
“The tree has not killed its victims, at least not all of them,” I say slowly. “That means there’s still a chance we can save them. And if not, well … perhaps using bow and arrow, we could give them a cleaner kind of death with less suffering.”
Paige shudders.
“I hope it doesn’t come to that. Oh, Jovak, there must be something we can do! Maybe if we build a fire near the tree’s roots?”
“Maybe, but we would likely kill our own people in an effort to destroy the tree.”
Her eyes cloud over. At first, I think she’s wallowing in despair, but then I see the light of cunning in her gaze.
“You have an idea?” I ask.
“Maybe. It depends on if what I found in that rusted drum is what I think it is.”
She leads me to the ruins of the old barn. The wood is so rotten it comes apart at the lightest touch. I’m a little worried the rest of the structure will fall in on us, and I keep a watchful eye on it.
"Here it is.” She brushes away some vines from a metal barrel covered with a red sheen of rust. Paige looks around in the ruins, then draws her sword. She jams the tip into a recession running around in a circle on top of the barrel.
“What are you doing?” I ask, aghast. “That will ruin the point of your blade.”
“Maybe, but it’s not much good against a monster tree anyway. What’s inside of here might be.”
She rubs vigorously on the side of the barrel. Rust rains down, dusting the grass below with scarlet. Some words in the old human tongue are scrawled across the surface.
“You know what this says?” she asks.
“No, I do not read the human tongue.”
“It saysRoundup. It’s a vegetation killer left over from before the fall of humanity. If the contents are still good, we can use it against the tree.”
“And how will we get this Roundup to the tree without being captured ourselves?”
“Hmm.” Her brows come together, knitting in thought. “I might have an idea about that. Tell me, does the tree only eat orcs, or will it eat anything?”
I frown and try to remember the brief flashes I can recall of my near capture.
“I do not know … wait!” My mouth opens with a gasp. “Yes, I do think I saw something else in the tree. Something with antlers … a deer, perhaps.”
“Okay, good. Then all we need is the right bait. Something big enough to act as a vector for the pesticide.”
Her eyes dart around, and then she points at a nearby tree.
“Look.”
I follow her pointing finger and see a series of parallel slashes cut into the tree.
