Close Encounters

The castle town where Wanderer had been taken didn't look like much from a distance— and neither did it look like much of anything from up close. In Iron Age Britain, opulent feats of engineering like those found in Rome, Athens, Memphis, Babylon, or Uruk were virtually unheard of. Castles as grand and enduring as Hogwarts— wonders that would put even Camelot to shame— wouldn't be built for another fifteen hundred years, after the Norman Conquest. So, for the time being, the kings and tribal chiefs of this land had to content themselves with merely bigger thatched houses than the peasantry.

At any rate, setting aside the British Isles' unhurried approach to architecture, the hillfort seemed rather well defended. As the name implied, the fort and the town that had sprung up around it were perched on top of a hill, providing them an expansive view of the valley below. A wooden palisade encircled the settlement, and farther down at the foot of the hill, a river traced a winding path through the fields as it lazily meandered its way to the sea, miles away.

Oleandra crept a few feet closer to the settlement before pausing to roll up her sleeve and check her watch. She had cloaked herself in a rather clumsy Disillusionment Charm to avoid detection by the lookouts, but she knew that once she entered the Druid's range, the guards would be instantly alerted to her presence, no matter how well she blended into the surroundings.

His ability to detect her even seemed to work at night while he slept!

"…and that makes five minutes," Oleandra told herself. "The Druid's spell doesn't seem to extend… hmm?"

Right on schedule, a small contingent of Muggles burst out of the gates with their weapons in hand and jumped onto a raft to cross the river. Oleandra followed their slow progress with a hint of worry— judging from their course corrections, they seemed to know exactly where she was, even though she was more or less translucent in her current state.

Unwilling to risk harming the Muggles of the past in combat or to showcase even more future magic than she already had, Oleandra turned on her heel and tried to run… only to tumble face first into the damp grass. Somehow, her shoelaces had ended up tied together.

"Oh, Hel," Oleandra swore, quickly gathering her feet beneath her and tugging at her shoelaces.

Judging by the small vole perched on a nearby rock and staring at her in a manner unbecoming of a wild animal, she had found her culprit. According to what Oleandra had learned from Professor Mirobolant at the Slug Club supper, Druids could create familiars, command animals and see through their eyes. It would explain why she kept getting detected whenever she approached the Druid's domain— he had eyes, ears and noses everywhere!

Arrows started whizzing past Oleandra's head, as the men took up their bows and started firing in her general direction. Her fingers danced as she accelerated her pace, but the knots in her shoelaces were proving themselves to be more stubborn than she'd initially thought.

"There she is!" one of the soldiers shouted, pointing directly at her. "I can see her, she's right there!"

The archers among the soldiers took aim at her, but Oleandra grabbed her sheath and held it in front of her. In one swift motion, she drew the Sword of the Lake and slashed through the knot binding her boots together.

Unfortunately though, the sudden movement shattered her Disillusionment Charm, rendering her perfectly visible to all once again.

"Ingwaz, Elhaz, Dagaz, Gebu!" chanted Oleandra, sliding her index and middle finger along the length of her sword's blade. "Protect and retaliate, Fragarach!"

The four runes etched into the blade near the hilt flared to life— and just as Oleandra was about to be turned into a pincushion, the Sword of the Lake sprang into action, batting the incoming arrows out of the air and sending them hurtling back where they had come from!

The soldiers raised their shields, intercepting Oleandra's return gift before the arrows could pierce their flesh. Seeing that a ranged approach had failed, the soldiers nodded to each other and started closing the gap— it was common knowledge that casters of spells were more effective when they had the advantage of range.

But unfortunately for them, Oleandra was not their average Witch.

"Thursaz!" she shouted, curling her left hand's fingers and pointing them at the closest enemy. "Strike!"

As if struck by an invisible sledgehammer, the man flew backwards into his companions, toppling them like bowling pins. Surprised by Oleandra's ability to invoke her magic without tools or lengthy incantations, the remaining enemies spread out to avoid suffering the same fate.

"Ingwaz!" shouted Oleandra, creating a diamond shape with her thumb and index. "Return to the Earth!"

The next soldier closest to her toppled face first into the wet grass, just as Oleandra had moments earlier. No matter how hard he struggled, he couldn't rise— her magic was pinning him down.

By twisting the meanings of the Ingwaz rune, Oleandra had managed to simplify her non-lethal incapacitation spell— the one that held enemies against the ground without harming them. In its typical aspect, Ingwaz symbolised the divine spark of inspiration, which Daphne often used to accelerate her comprehension. But it also represented the fertility and bounty of the earth, allowing Oleandra to weaponise a rune never meant for combat by abusing its association with the ground…

Unfortunately for Oleandra, the time it had taken her to cast just two spells was more than enough for the remaining soldiers to close the gap and surround her, poised to strike from all sides.

Fortunately, thanks to her Dusk-Elf blood, Oleandra was now extremely well suited for melee combat, being twice as strong as your average powerlifter while remaining twice as fast and graceful as the fastest Olympian athlete. Confident that her strength and speed far outstripped that of her enemies, Oleandra snatched the Sword of the Lake out of the air and raised it, bracing to parry the first sword strike and already turning her head to aim a spell at a different assailant…

But to Oleandra's shock, her arm flagged under the strength of that first blow, throwing her off balance. Just like the Muggle strongwoman Oleandra had faced in Brocéliande during the summer of her fifth year at Hogwarts, these soldiers were clearly juicing! Druids were masters of Potioneering, so it stood to reason they'd know how to brew Strengthening Solution!

And what's more, Oleandra could smell a grassy odour emanating from her enemies' short swords…