After Matthias’s betrayal, Gregory could understand Ezekiel’s extra caution.
But walking in the dark had its disadvantages, and Gregory nearly crashed into the wall of trees and undergrowth that suddenly blocked their path.
Gregory stared at the monstrous plants—each huge in their own right, and growing unnaturally close together. Thick vines covered in large, jagged thorns wrapped themselves around the base of the trees, completing the message of “Do not mess with us.” Gregory could see no way through. The wall of spike-like thorns, trees, and plants seemed to be too thick to cut through, not that they had a weapon capable of something like that.
“Holy shit,” Gregory whispered in awe as he took a step backward.
Ezekiel only laughed. “Indeed. I have to say, it’s a far more efficient defense than digging stones out of the ground to shape into a wall.”
“Not to mention more terrifying,” Gregory replied. “How the hell are we going to get through there?” An image of crawling and stumbling through foliage as tight as that, with thick inch-long thorns stabbing into his hands and sides at every step filled Gregory’s mind.
“This may be magic unlike any you’ve seen before, but the druids are people just like you or me. Well, maybe not just like you or me. But regardless, people don’t build a wall without also creating a gate. Observe.”
Ezekiel handed Gregory his staff, then stepped up to the largest and nearest tree. He placed his open palms against the trunk and closed his eyes. After what felt like hours but was probably only minutes, Gregory noticed a slight change in the verdant wall. It was subtle, and had Gregory not been staring intently, he might have missed it. Slowly but surely, a gap widened between several of the trees. The thorny vines disentangled themselves from the tree roots and shrubs, and the path opened before them.
Ezekiel turned back to Gregory and smiled, his eyes glowing a fiery red.
“As I said, my boy, there’s nothing to it if you know the way.”
“Well, I’m sure glad you’re here to keep us safe, because there is no way I could have done that.”
“Safe?” Ezekiel asked. “Who said anything about being safe? I’ve found the way in, not the way out. Best be on our guard.”
Gregory’s mouth hung open a little as Ezekiel turned and entered the forest. He couldn’t quite tell if the old man was joking, but he hoped to the Matriarch and the Patriarch he wouldn’t have to find out.
The lush canopy overhead made it almost impossible to see the stars, and they were soon plunged into almost total darkness. Ezekiel spun his hand and opened it palm up. A tiny glow of blue light danced there, just above his skin. He pushed it skyward and nodded in approval as the ball lit up the area around and ahead of them.
“I doubt anyone from Villgen will follow us in here. And it’s more than worth the risk to get a good look at the place.”
Gregory gazed around and inspected the forest, at least as far as the floating orb’s light would allow. Branches hung like the arms of skeletons, and he could hear movement in the brush beyond his line of sight.
He gritted his teeth and followed the mad old man farther and farther in.
Gregory’s legs felt like lead by the time Ezekiel finally stopped in a small clearing. Although the undergrowth was far less dense here than at the entrance to the forest, the path had all but disappeared.
“Well,” Ezekiel said, dropping his pack to the ground, “no sense getting lost by stumbling around in the dark. We may as well set up camp here and try and get some rest. It’s not nearly as comfortable as a bed in Villgen, but at least our necks won’t be sliced open in our sleep.”
“You sure about that?”
Ezekiel laughed. “Perfectly.”
Dropping his own pack, Gregory waited for direction. Ezekiel said, “I’ll build a shelter if you work on dinner. Sound good?”
Gregory’s stomach growled, confirming his answer. They had eaten at Matthias’ house, but between the unexpected melee and the late-night hike, he felt like he could eat a wild boar. Walking the perimeter of the illuminated area, he collected sticks and deposited each of them in a spot under the tree. He pulled out his tinder-box and started to work. He knew he could cast fire—he had done it a few times before—but didn’t want to risk embarrassment in front of the master.
Hearing the clicking of flint and steel, Ezekiel spun. His eyes caught the pile of dried kindling gathered at the boy's feet. “Actually, you’d better hold off on that a second.”
Gregory held up the fire tools and furrowed his brow. “What is it?”
Ezekiel stepped forward and knelt next to the sticks Gregory had gathered. Once again he closed his eyes, this time placing his hands directly on the forest floor. After a minute, he stood back up.
“There,” he said. “We should be good to go. It’s always worthwhile to show your respect for what the forest offers us. You never know who or what is listening.”
As the magician went back to constructing their shelter, Gregory laid out their dinner of bread, dried meats, and their last skin of ale. Glancing at Ezekiel, he saw the man coaxing a few small trees to lean over, creating an interesting work of magical architecture.
The Founder was full of surprises, and Gregory was drawn in by all of them.
After finishing his work, Ezekiel joined Gregory by the fire. The old man’s knees cracked as he settled on the soft ground. Propping his pack against a lone rock, he leaned back against it with a long sigh. He reached out his hand, and Gregory instinctively filled it with the skin of ale. The mystics weren’t the only ones who eased their minds with drink. Once his tongue was suitably moistened, he pulled out his pipe and sated another of his habits.
While the man went about his nightly routine, Gregory’s eyes scanned the edge of the forest. He wasn’t sure what he was looking for, but he had heard stories about the druids since he was a young child. Fearful of seeing a dozen sets of glowing eyes peering at him, he kept his knife close to his side.
“Will they be expecting us?” he finally asked.
Ezekiel blew three perfect rings into the firelight. “The druids?” He laughed. “Hell, they already know we’re here.”
Craning his neck, Gregory looked again for eyes in the trees. “Have you seen one since we’ve been here?”
With the pipe nestled in the side of his mouth, the old man smiled. “Not yet. Doesn’t matter, though. They have their ways. You must remember, the druids have a deep bond with the forest. Once we set foot within its boundary, they had word of our trespassing.”
“Trespassing?” Gregory swallowed hard. “Exactly how concerned should I be?”
“You take too many of your fairy tales to heart, son. The druids are not unlike you and me. Well, especially you. Did you know they were once city dwellers too?”
“Wait. What?” Gregory continued to rip a piece of bread, but kept his eyes fastened on Ezekiel.
While he had heard many tales about the druid people who inhabited the Dark Forest, none of them had included any connection to his home city.
Ezekiel could see the confusion in the young man’s face. “This story is fascinating, but I should be able to keep it short.”
“You never kept it short in class,” Gregory said with a grin.
“Ah, well, I was playing the part of a professor. We all know they are a bunch of long-winded pompous asses, now don’t we?” He winked at his companion.
A branch cracked in the distance, causing Gregory to jump. He convinced himself it was only an animal and not one of the people of the forest about whom he was learning the true story for the first time. Ezekiel paid it no heed and continued without missing a beat.
“You already know that after years with Lilith, when I was about your age, I left her tutelage and returned to the Arcadian Valley.”
Gregory nodded. “When you ended the Age of Madness.”
Sucking on his pipe, he nearly choked on hearing the words. “Well, like calling our craft ‘magic,’ I guess tha
t was the easiest way to tell the tale, and if I were a humbler man, perhaps I would set it straight.” He inspected Gregory’s face as the young man shifted in discomfort. “Let’s just say that Lilith had more to do with the cure than I did. And the cure was technological, like the Madness itself. Perhaps one day we will get into those details, as much as I even understand them.”
Gregory leaned back against the trunk of the oak. His mind raced, already trying to engineer an answer for how a worldwide antidote might have been administered.
“After all that, I made my home among a small group living in what would soon be called the Arcadian Valley. People started to join in pairs at first, and then tens. Soon we had ourselves a proper village. I set about teaching them to control and direct the power inside of all of us. This is, of course, when Adrien first came into the fold.”
A chill ran up Gregory’s spine when he heard the master speak the name of his former student.
“I tried to teach all that I knew, but it was like any other subject—some really take to one thing, some to another. Before long, my students had divided themselves into small groups, each focusing on one area of magic. And after some time, the groups began to disagree with one another over the direction the city should take. They each longed for something different.” He paused and stared into the boughs of the trees above, which were illuminated by their fire. “I’m sure humans have been doing that since even before the Age of Madness. Gathering together, like to like, and avoiding or hating those different from them. I stayed in Arcadia, and two other groups left, one to the Heights and one—”
“To the Dark Forest,” Gregory interjected.
Ezekiel grinned and nodded, pleased by the boy's sharp mind. “Indeed. And just as our lives were lived in different geographies, our magic continued to follow unique paths. The Arcadians, needing to build walls of protection in the lowlands, naturally mastered what we now call physical magic. The mystics, needing space to pursue their mental arts, retreated to the Heights. And the druids, well, their magic took on a distinct flavor that was shaped by this very forest.” Ezekiel swept his hand around him, indicating the forest and its inhabitants.
Gregory leaned his head against the tree. It was all far simpler than he ever imagined. Just like some craftsmen specialized in magitech weapons while others spent their time making magitech tools or luxury items, the technology that fueled magic could also be specialized. “But if we share a common ancestry, why do they hate Arcadia so much?”
“Hate us?” Ezekiel’s brow furrowed, making the lines in his face look infinitely deep. “I’m not sure I would say they hate Arcadians. At least they didn’t back in my day. In fact, when I left Arcadia, the druids, mystics, and Arcadians maintained a somewhat healthy trading relationship.”
Gregory shook his head. “I don’t think anyone in the city has ever set foot in the Forest, at least not during my lifetime. Or if they have, they didn’t live to tell the tale, as they say. I’ve only ever heard that the druids were violent, spiteful creatures who would kill an Arcadian on sight.”
Drawing more deeply on the pipe, Ezekiel nodded. “While the friendship between the Arcadians and druids may have ended, I imagine your Chancellor had more to do with it than the druids. He was always suspicious of any power other than his own. I’d wager that he cut ties with them and allowed rumors like that to spread around the city, in order for him to better maintain his power. But the druids are good people. They wouldn’t hurt us if—”
Before Ezekiel could finish his words, the forest came alive around them. The trees began to shake, and long vines whipped around Gregory like iron chains, binding him tightly to the tree behind him. He panicked and tried to resist the assault, but it was useless. The fierce green vines held him captive.
He looked at Ezekiel in desperation. He was wrapped up in the same fashion, lashed to the rock against which he reclined. But unlike Gregory’s, Ezekiel’s face was as serene as a mystic’s.
His eyes flashed red, and the corners of his mouth turned up. “Ah, Elysia, I was wondering when you were going to come out and join us. You’ve certainly changed since the last time I saw you.” He looked down at the vines holding him in place. “Is all this really necessary?”
Without a sound, a woman stepped out of the shadows into the light of their fire. She looked to be about Gregory’s mother’s age, but unlike Monica, this woman was thin and graceful, decked in garments of green and brown as if she were a part of the forest itself. A bow and a quiver of arrows were slung on her back.
“Strange things have been afoot in the Arcadian Valley. You must forgive me, Founder, but I’m not the child you once knew. Sometimes hospitality must take a back seat to caution.” Her eyes flashed green and the vines tightened around both men.
“So,” she started, “what the hell are you doing here?”
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Hannah knew shit-all about farming, but the land seemed tidy, which made her assume that the person who worked it also cared about it.
Hannah smiled, imagining that such care would be similar to what the druids must offer to their forest. She thought of Ezekiel and Gregory and their mission to the Dark Forest. They were probably having a wonderful time. For a beat, she considered saying a prayer to the Matriarch and then remembered that the jury was still out on her existence, at least as far as Hannah was concerned.
As she and Maddie rounded the corner of a small outbuilding, she spied the caretaker of the land, a farmer with wispy white hair. He was splitting wood with a fire in an open pit nearby to warm his hands between swings of the maul.
Hannah’s eyes flashed red as she slipped into his mind, trying to judge what kind of a man he was; if his thoughts ran toward violence. But there were no such thoughts, just the words of an old folk tune the man sang to himself as he labored.
“Hello,” Hannah called out as they got close. She didn’t want to startle him too much.
The man rested the maul on his shoulder and shaded his eyes with the flat of his hand to watch the sojourners approaching. She could see his face twist as he tried to place the two women casually walking onto his property.
His gaze focused beyond them and his eyes grew wide as they landed on the dragon.
Holding the tool up as a weapon, the old man shook. “What hell is that?”
Hannah held her hands up in a sign of peace. “He is…well, he’s a dragon. My dragon.”
“What the hell?”
Hannah smiled. “Don’t worry. Sal follows my orders.”
“Is he safe?” The farmer’s voice trembled as he spoke.
“Safe?” Hannah glanced over her shoulder. “Kind of. I guess it depends on what you plan to do with that maul.”
The man dropped the tool and stared at the women. “Who the hell are you?” His face showed confusion. “What are you doing out here in the middle of nowhere?”
It struck Hannah just how odd the experience must be for him. Maybe Sal wasn’t a great diplomat. “Don’t be afraid. We are friends. Arcadians. We come in peace, with news and a request.”
“Arcadia…” The man’s voice held some apprehension. “Haven’t been to town for years. Used to go in to trade, back when the wheat grew like weeds. Now, I just grow enough for us.”
“Well then, there’s a good chance we may have eaten your wheat at some point. My name is Hannah, and this is Maddie.”
His face softened as he stared at the young woman. “This may sound strange—well, not as strange as a dragon, I guess—but have we met before? You look so familiar.”
Maddie shook her head. “I’m afraid not. But people always told me that I looked like my aunt, Eve.”
“Eve...that’s a name I haven’t heard in years. My wife, Matriarch rest her soul, and she were friends of sorts back when we lived in the city. Was the only noble to give Colleen the time of day. How is Eve?”
With her eyes on the ground and her throat tight with sorrow, Maddie spoke. “Sadly, she has gone to join your wife
in the Beyond. Just this fall, before the first snow.”
Taking his hat off, the man spat on the ground. His brow furrowed. “Damn shame. Eve was one of the best. If all Arcadians were like her, I might not have left.” He gritted his teeth and placed his hat back on his balding head. “But I apologize for making you stand here in the cold. What kind of shitty host am I? Come now, come to my house. We will have tea, and if it suits you, something a bit stronger to take the chill off.”
Hannah looked at Sal, mostly to shield her eyes flashing red as she took a moment to step into the old farmer’s mind. His thoughts were dark with sorrow.
Turning back to him, she said, “We would be honored to come under your roof…”
“Henry. Name’s Henry, but most folks call me Hank.”
He led them toward the house, walking with a slight limp from a lifetime of fighting the hard ground for nourishment. Glancing over his shoulder at Sal, he asked, “That thing housebroke?”
Hannah giggled as her dragon groaned in the back of his throat. “Sal’s a perfect gentleman, Hank.”
“Good. I’ll let ‘im curl up by the hearth as long as he don’t bug the cats any.”
They stepped over the threshold into a tiny kitchen that also served as the dining room. As tidy as the fields, the ambiance of Henry’s house set Hannah at ease.
The old man stoked the fire, dropping more dry logs onto it, which caused the flames to crackle and dance. A kettle, black with soot, hung on a cast iron hook. Henry gave it a push, and it settled into its place over the fire. He waved at the chairs around the oak table, worn from service to an honest family for decades. The women took the invitation and sat. Hannah chose the seat facing the door.
She mostly trusted him, but she didn’t know anything about the man or who else might be on the property. With this in mind, she asked, “Are you alone then, Hank?”
Pushing a cat off another chair, he sat. “Nah. Don’t know if I would make it out here on my lonesome. These open lowlands would drive a man like me crazy as a remnant. My granddaughters are here, out on the back forty mending the fence right now.”
Revolution - C M Raymond & L E Barbant Page 12