The crimson witch

chest?
        “Who?” the bartender demanded, swinging his hand as if ready to toss the glittering knife.
        Truth, he decided quickly, was the best path. “A witch, my wife,” one small untruth, “was kidnapped by an old hag and a squad of manbats. But before the hag left with her, she told me that she hated King Lelar and that she was serving him because he would kill her if she did not. She told me that Mordoth could help me to get my woman back. That is all I know.”
        The three men exchanged glances. The bartender nodded and put the dagger down.
        Jake sighed and collapsed into a chair.
        “We know the hag,” the bartender said. “Sad story. She was such an independent old bitch until Lilar got to working on her with his evil magics. But that's the story with all the Talenteds in this kingdom. Subservient to the last.”
        “But Mordoth-” Jake began.
        “Mordoth, too.” The mustached man shook his head sadly, picked up his mug and downed a huge swallow of brew.
        “Then how can he help me?” Jake asked, suddenly exasperated.
        “He can't storm the walls of Castle Lelar for yon,” the bartender said. “But maybe there is some little thing he can do, something relatively inconspicuous, something Lelar would not notice. The hag must have had something in mind.”
        “You'll help me find him.”
        “Here,” the bartender said, indicating the gate in the bar. “Come back here.”
        He stood and crossed to the gate. The bartender swung it inward for him, and he went behind the long bar. The bartender walked to the end where the window broke the wall. “Look here.” He thrust a finger at the glass.
        Jake came to the window and looked out. Beyond a forest sprawled over the land, green and thick with gnarled trees that were hung with ropy yellow vines. “The Great Tree is in there?”
        The bartender laughed. So did the other two. “That is the Great Tree,” the mustached one said.
        “The whole forest?”
        “You got it.”
        “All those trunks are just branches of the main tree whose trunk is roughly in the middle of all that. The branches dip into the ground and become roots for awhile, then jump back out as big and healthy as when they went in. You ought to see it in winter when the leaves are gone. Sure is a scary, eerie sight.”
        “How do I find Mordoth in all that?” Jake asked.
        “Mordoth will find you. Just ride into the forest, ride into the tree and he will come to you.”
        “Then I best be going. There isn't any time to waste.”
        “Not if Lelar has your witch already,” the bartender said. He escorted Jake back through the gate and to the door of the bar. “We've decided to trust yon, stranger,” he said menacingly. “But if anything should happen to Mordoth, if you should be sent by some Power to do him harm, then your life will be worthless in these parts. We would find and kill you.”
        “Don't worry,” Jake said. “I need Mordoth as much as you do. I will leave him as well as I found him. That I guarantee.”
        He mounted Kaliglia and rode him out of town toward the tangle of branches and leaves that was the Great Tree. As they went, he told Kaliglia what had transpired in the bar, explained the Great Tree when the dragon showed suspicion that they were being hoodwinked.
        They crossed the grassy plain surrounding the tree and found themselves at the huge growth's perimeter without a pathway large enough for the dragon. They scouted the edge for a time, then stopped, tired of looking and pessimistic about finding a way even if they continued the search.
        “So I get left behind again, huh?” the dragon grumbled.
        “Looks that way.” Jake slid off the giant back and bounced on his heels on the earth. He checked the Thob sword, for he kept expecting it to vanish, but it was intact. “I'll be back when I have enlisted Mordoth's aid. That should be before dark.”
        “I'll eat,” Kaliglia said, chomping off a cluster of leaves from the Great Tree and munching on them. “Nothing much else to do.”
        Jake stepped into the comparative darkness under the trees, waved a quick goodbye, and slipped along the mammoth branches, pushing his way through denser configurations of leaves and vines, his hand near the hilt of his sword, his eyes open for the appearance of Mordoth which the bartender had very nearly