But now I was staring at a wall of forest that promised to contain several varieties. Many of them quite deadly even without magic.
“You have to be especially wary of the vines,” Rolof instructed us, as we approached the edge of the Leshwood. It was very clearly defined, as a particular kind of tree seemed to act as a border between the wood and the rest of the world. These were long, straight, smooth-barked evergreens, but with the tell-tale traces of the Met Sakinsa. “What looks like a mere vine to you may well be some organ of some creature a dozen yards away.”
“I still don’t understand how trees can move,” Ormar grumbled. “It defies science!”
“The Met Sakinsa differ from either Alon or Terran flora in their sophistication,” Lilastien agreed. “I’ve studied the basics of their biology both as an Avalanti sage and as a humani biologist.
“Our plants tend to be fairly simple,” she began to lecture. “Water, minerals, and sunshine; root, stem, and leaf. The focus is on photosynthesis and propagation.
“The Met Sakinsa have evolved far more sophisticated and specialized biology. In addition to the xylem and floem of our plant life – the Alka Alon call those the cartha and the zotha – the Met Sakinsa have three other systems to accommodate their biological needs. The first is a sensing system the Alka Alon call the bolatha; it’s remarkably adept at optical sensing, as well as atmospheric sensing and detecting sound.” To demonstrate, she stopped by one of the border trees and clapped.
Immediately, a few of what I first thought were nuts opened.
“This is a primitive eye, believe it or not,” she said, grabbing one of the things behind the stalk. “Very simple and designed to detect movement more than shape or color or brightness. This one,” she said, grasping another limb and revealing a kind of cone at the end of it, “detects sounds in a certain range. These are met threna, sentry trees. They aren’t sapient, but if they’re planted in a perimeter around something, they can be trained to send up an alert if something approaches.”
“What kind of alert?” Taren asked, curious.
“A high-pitched sound, and they release a pheromone that can be detected very quickly,” Ameras answered. “The sound can be difficult for humans to hear, but we Alon have sharper ears,” she said, managing to wiggle hers for emphasis. “It’s making it now.”
She was correct, I didn’t hear a thing.
“Bolatha is the mechanism for feedback that allows the Met Sakinsa to react to more than rain and sunshine,” Lilastien continued, releasing the bough. “It is highly sensitive, both to mundane and magical forces. The Met Sakinsa don’t merely passively sit there and photosynthesize, like our plants. They will look around and see where it’s sunny, where it’s wet, or what kind of delicious nutrients and minerals in the soil . . . and then go there.”
“It’s the going there part that I’m still hazy on,” Ormar admitted.
“That’s the relatha system. The second system concerns the use of specialized organelles,” Lilastien continued, “many of which use magic in some capacity as part of the XATP transfer chain. It can become a filtration system, a defense system, an energy production system, reproductive system, or, to answer your question, a kind of woody muscle tissue responsive to stimuli. One strong enough to leverage a Met Sakinsa tree out of its rooting and propel it across the land.
“The Met Sakinsa have an astonishing variety of such specialized organelles. Roots that can be moved into a stream for a drink, or branches that can extend leaves high into the air or back down. Tissues that can produce toxic chemicals, or pheromones, or specialized saps for specialized purposes. Branches and roots that can communicate through alchemical means. Organelles that can produce sound, or even light.”
“That would seem to require conscious thought,” Fondaras remarked, studying the sentry tree.
“And that brings us to the third system,” Lilastien nodded. “What the Alon call the dremaratha. A very specific type of tissue that acts as a kind of nervous system for them. Only it’s very diffuse, compared to an animal’s nervous system. The only large nodes of it tend to be at the deep core of an individual, where it interacts with the other systems. In the more primitive species, it allows basic reaction to stimuli and response. In the more complex, it allows a much wider range of self-awareness and more nuanced reaction. In the most complex, it allows for conscious, sapient thought, memory and communication.”
“That’s fascinating,” I admitted. “So, they come in a lot of varieties.”
“Hundreds,” agreed Rolof, as he strode through a part in the sentry trees and began searching for something in the boughs behind them. “Among the most advanced are the Leshi. During their life cycle, for a few hundred years they enter a phase of dramatically increased activity. It’s their reproductive phase. During it, they can move as easily as a man and sometimes faster. They can make great journeys in search of a more beneficial environment. But it takes a lot of energy, and after a certain level of growth they will often take root permanently, somewhere.”
“That’s when their bolatha, dremaratha, and their relatha kind of fuse into one special organelle that allows a strange kind of connection to the distant Grandfather Tree,” Lilastien explained, as Rolof plucked a few fruits from a tree. “That’s when the Leshi get really interesting. They can see through each other’s eyes and know each other’s thoughts, all through that connection. Usually, the adults rooted in a community will share that information and communication to the younger, more mobile Leshi.”
“Here, smear this on your faces,” Rolof advised, cutting the fruits he’d harvested in half. They produced a clear fluid from the spongey yellow interior. “This will keep some of the plants from attacking us. It has a pheromone in it.”
“Keep the plants from attacking us?” Ormar asked, skeptically, as he took a handful of the goop.
“Most of them are not particularly dangerous,” dismissed Travid, as he smeared the substance across his face. “Usually you’ll just get a bad rash, or be pricked by thorns. But there are some more aggressive.”
“And more insidious,” Rolof affirmed. “There are some very toxic species, if you mess with them. Don’t eat or taste anything unless I instruct you to.”
“Don’t forget about the insects,” reminded Ameras, as she painted her face. “Those can be as bad as the plants.”
“As if my day couldn’t improve,” Ormar griped, sarcastically.
“It’s just a relaxing walk in the woods,” Fondaras shrugged, and rubbed the substance on his forehead.
It was not a relaxing walk in the woods.
We went on foot, as the horses would not come near the sentry trees. We picketed them within sight of the forest before we plunged into the Leshwood. Within twenty paces it was clear that we were not in a normal forest. Normal forests don’t have bushes swinging actively through the trees.
Everything I had seen in thus far in Anghysbel seemed mundane once I went into the Leshwood. As remarkable as the other exotic creatures I’d witnessed were, the darkened confines of the Leshwood contained some astonishing sights. While most of the trees persisted in being stationary, there were plenty that moved in some form or fashion. And not slowly, like a well-brought-up fir or pine tree might. They weren’t dancing in the wind. They were moving their boughs and branches quite actively . . . and I found it unnerving.
I saw one specimen use what looked like a twiggy, specialized branch to swipe away a cloud of insects that seemed to be attacking one of its . . . well, I don’t really know what it was. But it was clustered along one branch and the bugs were apparently annoying it. A swift pass of the swatting branch sent the bugs fleeing.
A few moments later I saw a similar branch on a very different tree sweep a large insect the size of my hand into a cavity behind a ridge of its trunk. A quiet rumbling resulted. I realized that the thing was chewing.
“Many of the plants in the Leshwood actively seek nitrogen, calcium, and other minerals,” explained Ameras,
as she noted my shock. “It’s often easier to harvest it from animal species than seek it out in the soil.”
“They consume other animal proteins, too,” Lilastien agreed. “Mostly insects, but they don’t eschew mammals or even fish. It depends on the variety. Some are large enough to consume an entire Alon.”
“Fascinating,” Ormar said, sounding less than fascinated. A prickly looking bush about the size of a dog seemed to be sniffing at his heel.
“Olmeg would love this place,” I remarked, as he kicked at the bush. It seemed to shake, and then wandered off on a hundred little moving roots.
“The grove of the Leshi is a half mile or so ahead, up a hill,” Rolof said, peering through the forest. “I have a few friends there.”
“You would consider it a village,” Ameras explained. “There are a few score Leshi there, usually. It’s where the Father Trees root. There is a spring there that they like, and the drainage is good.”
“Others have . . . homes, of a sort, off in the greater wood,” Rolof related to us as he gently pushed a vine aside. It slithered away. I wasn’t certain if it was some far-flung organelle of a tree or an independent entity. Either way made my skin crawl. “The Leshi come in many shapes and sizes,” he continued. “They have the ability to influence the way they grow. If they decide they need another eye, or another leg, they grow one. As well as many other limbs. They don’t have faces, as such, but you can usually tell which way they’re facing.”
“That must be handy,” Taren said.
“It can be,” agreed Rolof. “They have a lot of specialized limbs, so to speak.” He paused and smacked away a little fluffy bush out of the path as if it were a skunk. “Ishi’s tits, I hate those things,” he said, with a sneer. “It’s not uncommon to see a Lesh with five arms, for instance, or five legs. Though the females tend to have more. There are around three females to every male,” he added.
“How do you tell males from females?” Ormar asked, with a smirk. “Do you have to lift them up?”
“By the fruit and flowers,” Ameras answered. “The Leshi maids blossom – literally. And they fruit up after the pollination, in the Spring. Also, by their longer eyelashes,” she added, helpfully.
“Leshi pollen is a potent aphrodisiac,” Rolof said, glancing at Ameras for a meaningful moment. “For human and Alon. But the Leshi maidens get the most of it. They come to fruit over the summer and then plant the seedlings in the autumn. There are entire groves of saplings, waiting to come to maturity around the Father Trees.”
“It’s an odd existence for us mammals to consider,” Ameras said, with a hint of a guilty blush. “But the Leshi have wisdom and power, even without magic.”
“Can they speak?” asked Taren, curious.
“Quite well,” agreed Rolof. “They can grow an organ that mimics human speech. And their hearing is quite keen. They know many languages,” he said, thoughtfully. “Both humani and Alon. Once they learn one, they all know it,” he confided.
That, I decided, was even more handy an ability than being able to grow a couple of extra arms.
“Checkpoint, ahead,” Rolof said, suddenly. “Whatever you do, don’t do anything rash or threatening.”
We were approaching another stand of sentry trees, only these all had some bright golden flowers on them that seemed to watch us, even if they barely moved. Rolof halted at the spot before an obvious gap in the line of sentry trees, where our path naturally led. I halted dutifully behind the half-crazed wizard and watched, as he leaned on his staff and patiently waited. There didn’t seem to be any real reason for his hesitation.
That is, until a few moments later, when a strangely familiar bunch of leaves began to sprout on either side of the path.
“Hisstoroli,” Lilastien hissed into my ear. “The Council uses them to guard the Tower of Refuge!”
I wasn’t exactly certain what I was watching, but the two plants began to grow in a preternaturally fast pace. From sprouting to forming four or five feet high, the process only took moments. Soon, two leafy bushes seemed to regard us in a threatening manner.
“I am Rolof the Wizard,” my friend informed them. “I come to see my friend Bomoadua.”
“Entrance is forbidden!” one of the vegetables insisted, bristling alarmingly.
“No one may pass!” the other demanded.
“I will wait,” Rolof said, patiently.
“Entrance is forbidden!” the first one repeated.
“No one may pass!” the other parroted.
“What if they don’t tell your friends that you’re here?” asked Ormar.
“They have known since the sentry trees on the frontier began keening,” Ameras whispered. “Just be patient!”
“Just how intelligent are these things?” Taren asked, intrigued.
“About as smart as a head of Romain,” Lilastien answered. “They have to be trained to their tasks, like tomatoes.”
“But, I’m guessing, they are formidable, if challenged,” I predicted.
“From what I understand, you faced some of the hisstoroli back at my place,” Lilastien murmured. “They’re like guard dogs: strong, loud, but not smart. The Council has adopted their use, in cases like mine. As if I posed some danger . . .” she added, disgusted.
“A few of these in your Forbidden Forest wouldn’t be amiss,” Taren pointed out, quietly.
“Don’t worry, I’m taking notes,” I promised, in a low voice.
“Entrance is forbidden!” the plant yelled at us.
“No one may pass!” the other answered. Their voices were a kind of hollow timbre, and they accompanied their shouting with a belligerent shaking.
They were about to repeat their warning once again when a looming shape pushed its way through the hedge, branches first. Thick, woody branches, covered with a fine-grained bark . . . but they moved like arms. They parted the hisstoroli without consideration, and another branch extended between them. At the end of it was a more complex version of the nut-like eye Lilastien showed us before, surrounded by needle-like leaves. The eye did, indeed, have big fluffy eyelashes around the perimeter.
“Hail, Bomoadua!” Rolof called, waving his arm at the branch. “I come with Ameras and other friends. We would have counsel with you and ask you a boon,” he explained, reasonably enough.
It took a moment, as the eye branch swiveled back and forth to stare at us. Another branch with an odd spiral-shaped organ also appeared a moment later. Then a third, this one with a dark brown gourd-like fruit covered with small pits or holes.
“Animals! Ro-lofff,” the gourd sounded. It was as if someone was using a bellows to force air into it. “Ameras. And friends.”
“May we come in, Bomoadua?” Ameras asked, politely.
“Welcome,” the gourd said, after a pause, and gestured with its eyestalk. A moment later the two hisstoroli shuffled aside and revealed the rest of the Lesh.
It was large, more than fourteen-feet tall at its leafy crown, which was supported by four branches protruding from a stumpy-looking trunk. The roots – or at least the branches on the ground, I had no idea if they were true roots – curled around the base of the trunk and seemed to be split into three main sections before they joined at the trunk. Smaller branches bearing all sorts of different growths protruded from the thick center in every direction. Across her canopy were dozens of strange flowers and a few fruit-like growths in various stages of development. Surprisingly, she smelled really nice. The flowers, of course.
It was like talking with an apple tree, somehow.
“Follow me to the moot meadow,” the Lesh instructed us, and then began to move through the grove on what was clearly a kind of path. “We can talk there.”
“Bomoadua was who first found me, when I emerged from the cave of Szal the Yith,” Rolof confided, as we each passed through the hedge. “She kept some unpleasantness from happening to me in my confused state. Then she got me help. Her name is Alka Alon for Bountiful Friendship. She’s really just t
hat nice. That was an awful night,” he said, shaking his head at the memory.
“That’s a she?” Tyndal asked, surprised, as he passed by the Lesh.
“Obviously,” Taren snorted, as he gave the Lesh a quick bow. “Didn’t you see the eyelashes?”
“I suppose I’d have to meet a male to really tell the difference,” Tyndal decided, as we emerged into the grove.
“It’s going to be more than eyelashes, I think,” Ormar said, as another Lesh ambled by on four stubby legs. “Just check out the melons on that one!” The Lesh, indeed, had a cluster of melon-like growths on the rear – I think it was her rear – of her canopy.
“That must be a male,” Fondaras observed, pointing, as we were led deeper into the grove. The trees – the permanently growing trees – thinned out more on the other side of the hedge, creating spaces and avenues for the Leshi to traverse. There was a score or more shambling through the paths. The one the footwizard indicated was significantly taller than Bomoadua, and of a visually different composition.
The male Lesh rose to nearly twenty feet, at the top of its pointy crown, and seemed to be more evergreen than deciduous, with dark green needles growing along its trunk and canopy in uneven clumps. The bark-like skin was different, too, rougher and thicker than Bomoadua’s. It had only two great legs, and they split far higher than the female Lesh’s. And there were fewer limbs, though they seemed thicker and stronger than the females.
It did not bother to turn to regard us, when it passed, but one of its eye stalks gave us a long stare. I felt like it was determining if we were a threat. Apparently not, as it continued on its way with long strides of its legs.
“This is another wonder I never imagined I’d see,” Fondaras said, staring at everything as intently as he could.
“Few humans have,” Rolof agreed. “The Leshi value their privacy and do not suffer lesser beings lightly. But they are not heartless. Indeed, they are a people of great feeling once you gain their trust. It was Bomoadua’s compassion that compelled her to fight off the raggi that were attacking me, that night.”
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