Gloom Rising (The Book Wielder Saga 1) by Sean Davies Page A

almost there, reaching out towards them, when the first scythe struck. Luckily, Winston had flinched backwards when he saw the branches move, because the blade slid into the ground where he was standing a split second beforehand. Before that scythe had even been pulled back out of the ground another had swung for his head. Winston moved swiftly backwards and the tree screeched at him, two angry red amber eyes now glaring at him and the sharp wooden teeth chomping angrily. The arms seemed to extend as the attacks continued. Winston tried to retaliate by unloading some shotgun blasts at the tree’s arms and trunk, but to his horror, the swift movement of the scythes deflected them. Continually evading the constant assault, he reached for his lighter and began hurling fireballs at the Deathscythe Tree. The tree swiped and dodged, blocked and deflected. When the fire caught the branches it shook its arms, quickly putting it out, and when Winston aimed for the tree’s face it shielded itself with its scythes and the fire just dispersed harmlessly. The tree started cackling wildly.
    Winston was at a loss of what to do. Retreat seemed the only logical solution, but then he remembered the bleach. He backed off and rummaged through the backpack until his hand felt the large thick plastic bottle. He pulled it out and launched it in the air towards the tree. The tree lashed out with it scythes and the bottle was shredded, spilling its contents all over the place. Bleach rained down on it and the Deathscythe tree wailed in agony. Everywhere on the tree that the bleach hit dissolved rapidly. It was like someone had poured acid over it; branches and scythes fizzled and fell off, and the trunk steamed as sections of it melted away. All that was left afterwards was part of the trunk with a half melted face and one scared looking lifeless red eye.
    With the threat eliminated, he casually walked over to the trunk. Lewis’ theory seemed to be correct, as even some parts of the ground had dissolved. Looking at the tree, he realised what he could bring back to Gregory. He pried out the remaining red amber eye. It was slightly larger than his fist and was translucent like a ruby, and he put it in the backpack. He ate some more chocolate to mitigate the effects of the Gloom and started collecting the Deathroot. The exposed roots broke and crumbled easy, so he snapped them off by hand and filled the large alchemist case to the brim. Due to the difficultly of harvesting the reagent and the demand from Mages in the real, a small quantity was very expensive. Winston had half a case’s worth. He snapped off a smaller root for himself and added it to his light collection kit, next to his remaining Crimson Blood Moth wing. Those alone would set him up nicely next time he visited a Shadow Market.
    Filled with a sense of pride, he decided to make his way back to the tavern to the real world. From the hill he could see the faint sickly green glow of the witchfire campfires from the Freak village, so he knew what direction he’d need to travel in. Just as he was about to walk down the hill, a Freak burst out of the tree line.
    Winston was quick on the attack and hurled a fireball at it. The thing went up in a blaze of fire, sizzling and popping as its damp flesh roasted. Then more Freaks followed, axes raised and screaming vulgar threats and profanities. He sent fire left and right, shooting into the trees where it spread rapidly, but the Freaks kept coming. Soon they were gaining ground on him. He swapped to the shotgun and started blowing the psychotic freaks to pieces, black coagulated blood splattering from their wounds. The smell of death and rot was thicker than ever.
    A loud hissing sound came from behind him. The Demon he’d seen earlier was right behind him and Winston froze in horror, as did the Freaks. She did indeed have a fine full-figured form under her silver and black armour, and her hair plumed upwards and down in a long beautiful