by Rexx Deane
‘Our people have no technology. We use a combination of biology and thaumaturgy. As we are vulnerable, our best defence is obscurity, so we hide our ships from scans that could reveal our true nature. Our ships are organic and manipulate space in order to move.’
‘So, where’s the carbyne you use?’
‘It is far below the ground. Our nature allows us to use it from a greater distance than other sentient magic-using races. As we use it, it moves into the weave. The mineral exists in multiple planes, contacting the threads of space-time, and thaumaturgy draws off the physical part. The energies released by the movement allow the effects to manifest. Use of too much can cause parts of the ground to subside.’
He stopped and scratched his head. ‘Did something like that happen sixty years ago?’
The Folian consciousness halted in a thin mangrove with heart-shaped leaves. ‘What do you know of events from that time?’
‘Not much. My friend Aryx and I visited the moon above. There’s an outpost called Chopwood that looks as though it was abandoned around that time. Duggan pointed us to it for us to find you, but don’t worry, we had to follow a very old-fashioned beacon signal and it’s highly unlikely that anyone else would follow it and find you.’
The illusory face regarded him with a blurry expression that he could only interpret as uncertainty.
‘You don’t have to worry. The only evidence we found indicating anything unusual was a diary that said Achene was potentially habitable, but it was still a leap of faith coming here. So far, I haven’t seen any signs of the colonists, yet the diary implied everyone had packed up and come here.’ Sebastian looked around. ‘Where are they?’
‘They did not make it to the surface.’
‘What happened? Did their ship blow up?’
‘They approached with malignant intent, that much was certain. They fired weapons as they approached. They wished to destroy us. We had to banish them.’
Banish? He gave the tree a sidelong glance. ‘Banish them how?’
Tolinar bristled.
‘Our people banded together to weave a great spell that would prevent their ship from reaching this planet. We are not violent, and have no wish to harm others so, acting on instinct alone, our only option was to send them elsewhere. The spell moved the ship a great distance across space, far from here.’
‘You teleported them?’
‘That is one word for it. The effort was immense, and we used massive amounts of carbyne from within the planet to do so, which led to the subsidence of vast tracts of land, killing many of our host trees. You may have seen the dead forest beyond the cliff, itself formed by the collapse. It was a terrible sacrifice, and an act we regret for many reasons.’
Now it made sense … ‘There have been news reports of an object, possibly a ship, that people claim to see moving in this direction at near lightspeed. Could that be the colonists’ ship heading back?’
‘If it has been seen in your local space, it is possible they turned back towards this region to continue their mission. We had not expected them so soon.’ Every voice in the choir of the Folian’s speech carried a tremulous note of worry.
In some strange way, Sebastian felt responsible – maybe not personally, but they were fellow Humans after all, and that was enough. ‘What can we do about it?’ he asked.
‘We do not know. We cannot afford the cost of banishing them again as it could break up our planet, and such an act – were it to succeed – would only delay them again. Unless an alternative course of action can be found, our kind is doomed.’
Chapter 24
Tolinar seemed sullen and Shiliri spoke little as they led Sebastian towards the Cambium.
The forest, which had initially consisted of familiar trees, became straggly, with tall, slender trunks that thrust upwards in a race to the sky. Sebastian had seen this type of terrain in documentary vids: rainforest. He stared at the greenery with a newfound appreciation and, just for a moment, the pressures of the last few days were forgotten.
‘Oof!’ He stumbled on the tangled vines growing across the avenue, ruining the moment. ‘Why don’t these vines and things grow very high? They don’t seem to be growing up the trees.’
‘We have the ability to impose our will upon the animals of this planet when they come close to us,’ Shiliri said. ‘We instruct the grazers to stay out of our forests, except for areas in which we wish to control the plant life to prevent the spread of fires. For instance, the vines on this pathway contain fire retardant sap.’
‘I noticed there was very little undergrowth off the path in certain places. Is that due to animals, too?’
‘No. We have the ability to exert fine control over our biologies, and give off tailored hormones to suppress or encourage plant growth near our host trees. Too much undergrowth would choke them.’
‘Aryx would love this. Do you know if he’s alright? He came down in an escape pod before the ship crashed.’
‘We were aware of the escape vehicle. Some of the wildlife has sensed movement and we were able to hold it back. We believe he is safe for the time being, but he is now outside our range of direct influence.’
‘Then you have my eternal gratitude. At least he’s moving, and that’s a good sign. Oh Gods, I hope he gets to the ship … Was I teleported from it before it crashed?’
‘Yes. The elders were aware of your approach and banded together to save you when they realised a crash was inevitable. We did not want a death on our conscience. You were moved before the impact, which we were also able to dampen.’
The trio approached a break in the avenue, where it opened into a small clearing.
‘The Cambium,’ Tolinar said, and, with a bow, gestured for Sebastian to enter the circle.
He walked into the clearing. Small, dry curled leaves littered the ground and rustled in the light breeze. Within the clearing stood a circle of squat trees with knotty, wizened bark and small olive-like fruit that grew amongst the slender boughs.
‘Take one,’ Shiliri said, her face resting in the nearest trunk.
He plucked a ripe fruit from the tree in which she resided. It was slightly soft and almost the size of a plum. He rolled it between his fingers. What was he supposed to do with it?
‘Eat it. Be mindful of the stone.’
The flesh was soft, chewy, oily and sweet – he’d expected a bitter taste. He nibbled the outer layer from around the wrinkled stone and his tongue tingled with the sensation of fizzing soda. Compelled by an itch under the bandages, he unwound the fabric.
Green pus and gunk covered the skin, but it no longer hurt. He tentatively rubbed the patch of rotten flesh and a swathe of it came away easily, without the slightest hint of pain. He wiped the area clean with the outer layers of bandage; the wound had completely healed, without scarring. ‘Oh my Gods, Thank you!’ He held up the small peach-pit-like stone. ‘Where should I put this?’
‘Keep it as a memento of this greenspace.’
Did she say greenspace or green space? Perhaps it was merely a peculiarity of the way her voice seemed to be translating into his own language, but it had sounded like one word. He popped the stone into a pouch on his belt.
Tolinar looked up at the sky. ‘The worst of the storm passed us in the caves but it will rain again, and it is getting dark. We must take shelter soon.’
Shiliri shifted through the ring of trees to the far side of the clearing. ‘This way,’ she said, and headed off into the surrounding rainforest.
They came across a four-feet-tall rhododendron bush with thin, twisting tendril branches that formed a shell with a clear opening in one side: a herbaceous igloo. Aryx would have found it interesting.
Shiliri moved into a nearby tree with tall, buttressed roots and a slender, vaguely masculine profile. ‘Rest here for the night. Rain is coming this way.’
Sebastian crawled into the bush and lay on the soft, clear ground, which was higher inside the shelter. Tolinar sat next to him, crossed his legs, an
d closed his eyes. Raindrops pattered on the leaves above, followed by a distinct rustling. The leaves above were moving. Moving with intent; they flattened onto the outside of the bush to form an overlapping mosaic of leafy scales and, as the rain hammered down, not a single drop penetrated the covering. Sebastian lay listening to the rhythmic beating of the planet’s windy pulse and, after several minutes, fell asleep.
After a brief period of dreamless sleep, he woke, feeling restless. The rain had stopped and the leaves of the bush had opened, allowing starlight through the branches. Tolinar still sat with his eyes closed, either asleep or meditating, so he left the bush-igloo to stretch and strolled back to the Cambium.
The patch of night sky above the clearing presented a spray of bright points – so many stars he could barely make out any dark space between them. A cool breeze rustled through the stark silhouettes of the trees as they waved back and forth against the glittering night. A meteor streaked overhead, and an ache formed deep within his soul. He was certainly getting his taste of adventure. He hoped Aryx felt the same, wherever he was.
‘Dear Sebastian, are you troubled?’
He turned. The luminous face of the Folian hung in the low branches of an olive tree. ‘No, I’m fine, thank you,’ he said. ‘I was just thinking about my home, Earth.’
‘It is a beautiful planet.’
‘How do you know what Earth is like? I didn’t think any of your ambassadors had been there.’
‘The Karrikin have passed us knowledge that they have come across through recordings and books, but Folians have been there in the past.’
‘What? When?’
‘Millennia ago, before we developed our ships and encountered the acceleration nodes, we sent seeds into space to colonise and explore the universe. Many of the plant species on other planets came from our founder seeds, or were a product of cross-breeding under our early guidance, and so I imagine you find many of the species here familiar.
‘When we were younger, sending resilient seeds into space was our only method of exploration. Those of us that grew on other planets were sometimes able to transmit our memories across the distance and be heard by those of us here when we listened in unison.’
‘My grandfather used to tell me stories from ancient Earth folklore … of things called dryads. And my ancestors’ religion has things called landvættir, land-wights – were they Folians?’
‘Yes. We coexisted with Humans peacefully, for a time. Unfortunately, things did not end well for us on your world. It is easier to show you. The Cambium fruit you ate will allow us a connection so that I may share memories with you. Come closer.’
Sebastian approached the tree and Shiliri’s transparent glowing form drifted towards him, engulfing his head.
***
Aryx woke feeling like he’d got extra parts on his body, added solely for the purpose of aching.
The early morning air was cool but comfortable. The edges of the lake, basking in the thin morning light, seemed indistinct, merging with the forest; a wispy mist breathed across it from the drying, leafy ground; willows drowned their sorrows at the water’s edge; the soft tresses of Spanish moss hung between the acid-gold cascades of laburnum, caressing the water. As he lay staring out from the alcove, he couldn’t think of a more idyllic planet on which to die.
He drained the last few drops from his water bottle into his parched mouth, which felt like it had been open all night. He baulked: what might have crawled in while he slept? Hefting the mobipack onto his lap, he shuffled to the edge of the slab of rock, put on the pack, and activated it. Four tiny spheres appeared above him, and several button-presses later, the fields vanished and coalesced into the familiar semi-transparent prosthetics and he stood.
‘Good morning, Aryx,’ the cube said, startling him.
‘Don’t do that!’
‘Do not do what? Greet you?’
‘Greet me by all means, but don’t make me jump.’
‘Next time, I will warn you first. Perhaps I will suddenly say, “I am about to speak,” and then greet you.’
‘You’re totally insane. I’m off to get some water.’ Aryx made his way down to the lake, shaking his head. ‘Trust me to be stuck with a sarcastic AI.’
‘SI.’
‘SI … with big ears.’
The prosthetic legs sank into the mud, squelching with every step as he drew closer to the water. He bent down to fill the bottle but started to tip forwards; with the ankles fixed, he couldn’t reach the water without falling in. He scratched his chin. Sitting on his backside in the water seemed like a bad idea, so he stepped forwards until the water came to the top of the prosthetics. It was strange to see right down to the mud at the bottom through leg-shaped holes in the water.
He reached out to fill the container and stared out across the still lake. Under different circumstances the surroundings would have been perfect. As the clear water bubbled into the bottle he licked his lips in anticipation.
Something splashed.
He froze.
Glug, gluggle, blup, went the bottle.
The hairs on his neck prickled and he slowly scanned the water’s surface for the source of the disruption. There was no movement except for a large, thin ripple spreading sedately across the lake from the middle where something had momentarily broken the surface.
He breathed out slowly. It must have been a fish or something. He had to calm down and stop being so jumpy.
The bottle gave a final glug and he screwed on the top.
The lake erupted.
Birds panicked in the trees and took flight. A shadow fell across the water around him as a torrent rained down; a gaping maw, filled with rows of savage, needle-sharp teeth reared out of the water, blotting out the sun. He straightened, fighting every muscle in his body.
The mouth came down. He staggered back, and it snapped shut inches from his face, revealing the leathery brown head to which it belonged. From the top of the head dangled a long appendage with a bark-like texture, and either side of the mouth two large, onyx eyes glistened with black malevolence.
The creature slithered forward on a long serpentine body and the odour of rotting flesh belched forth as the thick, rubbery lips of the enormous mouth parted.
Aryx stepped back again and fell onto the leafy mud. The angler-serpent reared up, mouth dripping with stringy, putrid saliva, and lunged at him. Teeth gnashed inches from his face.
He kicked at the ground, digging in his heels to propel himself backwards, but succeeded only in pushing more mud into the lake. There was no choice but to crawl for it. He rolled over.
The razor-lined mouth came down once more and snapped shut. With a mighty crunch of breaking teeth, it trapped the left leg of the prosthetic field in its jaws and rose up, lifting Aryx off the ground. Aryx dangled from the harness and flailed helplessly as it shook its head from side to side, trying to tear its precious meal to pieces.
The pack emitted a loud blarp!
A second later the field lost cohesion; the crushing pressure was too much for the capacitor and the laser-like threads constrained within the field exploded from the surface in a chaotic Lissajous of light, whipping about as they faded to nothing. In the leg’s absence, the toothy grin snapped shut.
‘Shiiiiit!’ Aryx fell to the ground, landing painfully on the pack.
The creature recoiled and rose for a second bite.
Chapter 25
Sebastian blinked. Everything had gone dark. Even the stars had gone. Had he blacked out? No, that was a stupid idea – you didn’t know when you were unconscious.
Pinpoints of light appeared all around; he was floating, disembodied, in open space. Several small objects came into focus. Seeds. Seeds like almonds, spinning through space towards the bright disc of a different Earth – the continents were wrong somehow. Then he remembered: it was the Folian’s memory. Ancient memories that reached back to prehistory.
The seeds plummeted through the atmosphere, white-hot, burning unti
l the outer shells broke open, and like the wings of a sycamore seed they drifted out of the sky, landing deep in grasslands all over the young planet.
The view of distant Earth grew green, as the seeds filled the planet with tree-forms of increasing complexity, all spawned from that primordial DNA. The continents broke apart into the familiar arrangement of seas and lands, but there were no signs of habitation: no city lights, no glistening white spires. This was a time long before Humans developed the technology to affect the appearance of the world. Maybe before they had even existed.
The dream-time moved on and the seeds grew over millennia into large trees with vaguely humanoid attributes. Once mature, fruit of different varieties grew and was eaten by animals. Distributed by the fauna, the seeds grew into less humanoid trees, and the Folian consciousnesses from the original seeds moved from tree to tree, dwelling longer in the empty, mindless child-trees than in the native plants.
Eventually, Human settlements sprung up and, being unable to avoid interaction with the Humans, the Folians instructed them in which substances to find concentrations of carbyne, and how to identify organisms that had absorbed enough of the evaporated mineral from the atmosphere to be usable as the components of minor spells.
It was obvious how they had become revered as minor deities. Sebastian laughed to himself; maybe ‘eye of newt’ wasn’t such a cliché after all.
As time moved on, the Humans discovered mining and broke open large seams of carbyne. Much of it evaporated on exposure, but those practiced in thaumaturgy stabilised it using spells, and worked alongside the miners. It certainly made the stories of orichalcum credible. Eventually, the Folians withdrew contact, intending to leave the native life forms to their own development, and over time Humans forgot the dryads and magic as attractive new religions sprung up, drawing the masses with the promise of divine rewards. Slowly the dryads slipped into myth; engineering and science removing any need for the thaumaturgic arts at all. Those who still clung to the old ways were routed out by fanatical religious orders and drowned or burnt as witches, worshippers of evil spirits or devils as the zealots strove to purge them from the land.