Awakening

by P D Dennison

  All three ate quickly and spoke little. They were on their way in no time with Ravak in the lead moving at a quick jog, scouting ahead. He returned to them frequently with news of the terrain before them. It was no wonder the goblins were cutting and burning their way through the pass. An army couldn’t make their way through it with all of the thick ancient growth and rocky terrain beneath to contend with.

  They were so far down in the mountain valley that they could scarcely see sky through the heights of the trees above. When one looked up mostly what they could see were the faces of rocky cliff sides and the canopy of the trees above. Cool mist in the air made the hard work travelling the rough terrain more bearable. Turynn and Manya had not seen Ravak for several minutes when he finally returned to them.

  “There’s a waterfall up ahead. We can ford its riverbed at the base. I found shallows that are passable. Follow me.” He gestured for them to quicken the pace and follow his lead as he trotted off back up into the woods.

  The pass turned upward sharply and the Silverleafs found themselves slowed to a walk. At times they even had to extend an arm out to the rocky ground that rose before them to steady themselves on the steep slope that grew slick with the mist of the nearby falls. After what seemed like an eternity, they looked up to see Ravak standing in a clearing on top of a rise. Great clouds of mist rose up from behind him signalling they were close to the base of the falls. Ravak removed his coat and hat and stuffing them into a pack as the siblings came out of the bush. The sun was hot and the mist created an unbearable humidity that made it difficult to breathe. Hiking in the insufferably warm, wet mountains tired the companions quickly, save for Ravak who relied on his immeasurable Barbarian constitution to drive him on. The falls rose up the side of a cliff beside them some two hundred feet and beyond that, a massive peak rose skyward lost in clouds and snow at the top.

  The sound of the water roared past them and created a welcome breeze that helped ease the heat of the sun and humidity. To the west they could see another similar peak. The summit rose high, sheer and clouds shielded the top from view. The three were anxious to ford the river and see what lay ahead. They could see the pass sloped sharply downward here. The remnants of ancient roadwork could be seen where no trees grew at the river canyon’s edge. There were the stone post remnants of a bridge that once spanned the river. They all surmised it must be the start of the Upper Sarandanus, a mighty river that flowed through the entirety of the South through. It travelled through four kingdoms finally spilling out into the Orcun Ocean where it created a great fjord that widened and formed a vast chain of islands known as, the Midgaard Isles.

  “Further on downriver there are even more impressive falls. I’ve never seen it, but have heard tell of it from some of my acquaintances. They call them the Great Falls. They spill out into the Northern Gnome Hills. Few have seen the Great Falls as they are in a region thought to be overrun with goblins,” Turynn noted as he pointed toward the East. “Well, we’d best get into that pass and find our bearings. It’ll take us time to find our way through the trees down there. It looks even thicker than the pass we just made our way through.” He headed through the river at a widened spot where the flow was weakest. He moved with grace, tiptoeing on rock and branch to get as little water into his boots as possible. The other two did the same. Turynn moved with the grace and agility of a cat while Manya was not quite so dextrous and managed to get herself quite wet in the crossing.

  Luckily, the clear path down the other side of the pass for the first fifty yards or so made travel much easier. It then thickened abruptly into a dense tangle of undergrowth mixed with ancient Rowenwood trees towering some five hundred feet into the air. Scarcely enough light to sight the path filtered down to the ground through the canopy high overhead. There were dead and rotting trees everywhere that could not survive beneath the over shadowing canopy and it made travel quite difficult. It appeared the goblins must have made it this far into the pass and realized they couldn’t move a sizable force through at all. The three companions moved cautiously and breathed heavily due to the thick, warm air. The trees sheltered them from the direct rays of the sun, but the heat penetrated locking down under the steamy canopy like the inside of a green house.

  The small company spread out some now, each finding their own way through the thick bramble and broken trees. Each suffered many small cuts scrapes and bruises, and as hot as it was, Ravak still put his coat back on to save his flesh from the wicked branches of the low-lying bramble of the Thornweed and from the stumps with their wicked dead branches twisting upward just waiting for an unwary hand or arm to pass by. They bore on down through the treacherous pass for many hours.1

  1 Rowenwood

  The Rowenwood Tree is the most plentiful in all the Land of Shaarn. Its full life span is unknown, but it is suspected to be more than three thousand seasons under the right growing conditions. The Rowenwood will grow on any piece of ground that a seed falls, but thrives in damp conditions where the trees can grow close together and form a canopy to shade the trunks and roots of the trees with maximum growth heights in excess of five-hundred feet recorded.

  The fabled Dragon Rider Clan and the northern Barbarian clans recognize the Rowenwood as their ancestral spirit trees, possibly due to the long life span of the trees. One Barbarian could plant a spirit tree in the name of his family and several future generations could commune with their ancestors through the tree as it grows to full maturity over the course of thousands of Seasons.

  Rowenwood is the primary hardwood used for producing lumber throughout the Land of Shaarn and is used for everything from fencing, to housing, to ship building, save the ships built by the dwarves of Aragon in the far west of Shaarn, who prefer the use of Aragonian Ash for their smaller lighter ships.

  Rowenwood also makes excellent bows and arrows and is the preferred hardwood for bowyers and fletchers across the land.

  Rowenwood is also used by the elves of Rowendale in the aging of their elven Bourbons as casks made of Rowenwood produce a smoky flavor, which is the signatory of the elven spirit.

  -A.M. Zeraan Taaselfee, A Study in Life & Biology, Season: 657. A.2

  Chapter 9

  Tempus Distortion

  After what seemed like an eternity, the three made their way down the steep thicketed pass into a much more ancient part of the forested mountainside. The growth of the Rowenwoods was exceedingly tall here towering some seven hundred feet above them with trunks thick enough to carve out homes in. The falls could still be heard faintly in the distance behind them, but other than that, all remained calm and quiet. None of them had ever seen Rowenwoods so ancient or so grand. Alive from the First Age of Shaarn, this part of the forest had somehow managed to elude man, axe, beast and the passage of time. The air was still, heavy, and musty. It smelled sharply of moss and lichen. A thick growth covered all the ground along with any fallen timber that had not yet been completely rotted out. Manya noted it first, but the other two agreed there seemed to be magick at work here. It was strong and could be felt even by the dumbed magickal senses of a Barbarian and a thief, let alone a trained sorceress.

  All three companions stood together and looked upward in awe of the massive trees. The ground before them appeared relatively clear of brush and bramble, only gently rolling rock and hillside covered in thick green moss amidst the trunks of the largest and oldest trees in the Land of Shaarn. The sun remained barely visible through the treetops yet the forest floor, while cooler than the thick brush in the pass above, still felt quite warm. Ravak broke the silence first.

  “This is the place of my ancestors. I can feel them in these trees. I was told stories about the ancient Rowenwoods in the eastern Mystpeaks where our ancestors, the Dragon Rider Clan, made their home.” He slowly reached out a hand and hesitantly touched his open palm to the trunk of one of an ancient Rowenwood. A brilliant flash of light filled his mind and he jumped back startled, breathing rapidly from the fright.

  “What ha
ppened, Ravak?” Manya walked over to him and grabbed his hand in hers and rubbed it with a concerned look in her eyes. She understood he’d experienced something arcane.

  “I... I don’t know. I touched that tree and something lit up inside me. It felt hot. I’ve heard the witchdoctor in our village talk of such connections to spirit trees of the ancestors in the past, but it was spoken only as myth and legend. Ravak thought old fool had no real power aside from elixirs and poultices. We lost the way to the home of our ancestors long ago. Perhaps we are closer to Dragon’s Maw Keep than we thought.”

  “Try and touch the tree again.” She nudged him back toward it.

  He stepped back over to the tree and breathed deeply three times, raising both arms and opening his palms as he did so. He swallowed hard and grimaced as he reached out for the ancient bark of the massive Rowenwood before him. He gripped the tree tightly. A searing hot flash and brilliant white and green light came at him again, assailing his senses with sights, sounds, and smells he’d never experienced before. His hands burned from the ancient magick stored in the tree trunk, but it was not painful. It warmed him from the inside out and filled his body from head to toe with a sensation of electricity. He felt it move through his arms and his head and down through the rest of his body in pulsating waves of power. He could hear Manya speaking to him, asking if he was alright, he felt fine, if not a little bit surprised by the whole experience, but feared breaking the bond with the tree and held on tightly trying to nod a message back to her that all was well. He couldn’t even feel his head move, but she stopped talking or the intense buzzing sound from the magick grew so loud he could no longer hear anything except the electric arcane energy that flowed out of the tree and through his body. It grew in intensity until finally he heard a sound inside his head like a crack of thunder and the white light grew green and glowed all around his eyes and body. Now Manya and Turynn could see the green glow as well. The air around them took on the strong scent of lilac. There seemed to be static electricity forming in the air, making the curly hair on both of their heads stand up.

  Ravak opened his eyes and looked around. He no longer held the tree and the land looked the same, but somehow different. He looked at his hands; they were glowing a faint greenish color, as was the rest of his body as he examined himself. He could see his breathe before him in the crisp cool air. Ravak regained his senses and began to hear voices in the distance. He wheeled around to face Manya and Turynn so the three of them could take cover from the approaching voices, but his companions weren’t there. He doubted their disappearance and quickly dismissed it as Manya was a sorceress herself and Turynn being her brother, both were quite wyrldly and had a good understanding of the arcane. These were not the type of people to fear magick or the type to leave a companion behind when in trouble.

  The voices drew closer. Ravak ducked behind a massive trunk and crouched low. A moment later, three men walked past. They looked to be Barbarians of his horde, but they were different. He’d never seen the markings they bore before. They didn’t bear the markings of the Winter Wolf Clan or the markings of any of the other northern clans, but each sported a great sleeve tattoo on his right arm covered in dragon art. They all carried a shield of scales and wore a scaled suit of armor the likes of which Ravak had never seen. He allowed them to pass, slumping back down behind the massive tree out of sight.

  He rose, heading in the direction their direction. They left a clear, fresh trail. They’d passed on a road not there only moments before when Ravak, Manya, and Turynn had passed by the same route. He looked up at the thicketed pass they’d come down out of which was now clear. He could see clean up to the stone pillars that supported the ends of the dilapidated bridge where he and his companions had seen the thick thorny growth. Only the pillars were no longer dilapidated. They stood strong and new looking, as did the bridge.

  The three men were off in the distance now and the road seemed clear, well paved and easily travelled. He looked around further, realizing the seven hundred foot canopy of trees above his head were now a mere two hundred feet high and this signalled he’d definitely somehow been transported back to the First Age by the potent magick locked in the ancient tree he’d bonded with. Ravak started to panic. What if he couldn’t get back to his Age? What if this was some sort of trap set by an ancient witchdoctor? He turned back to the tree and frantically reached out for it the same as the first time. Again the brilliant white flash overtook him and he was consumed by the magick. Moments later he fell away from the tree shaking. Turynn and Manya were there to come to his aid as his rump hit the ground.

  Manya kneeled, cradled his head in her lap, and unstopped a water skin for him to sip from. She stroked his head and told him to relax.

  “What did you see, Ravak?” She asked excitedly.

  “I saw the past. I saw my ancestors. I was there. They walked right by me, but I hid and they didn’t see me. I couldn’t see either of you so I panicked.” He pointed back up into the thicketed pass. “I saw the bridge and a road. I could see the posts of the bridge high above us, but they were new and not worn as they are now. I saw a great road here, beneath us, and it extended out into the forest ahead of us as far as the eye could see.”

  He rolled over out of Manya’s lap and frantically began to scrape at the thick blanket of moss until finally he hit rock. He pulled great chunks of the mossy carpet away to expose a stone road beneath. He looked up at the two of them.

  “I think I went back in time to the First Age!” He looked back and forth at the two for acknowledgement of his mystic journey.

  Manya shook her head in disagreement. “No, you didn’t let go of the tree and were standing there the whole time. Your eyes opened and went green. I believe you had a truly arcane experience and you were connected with the ancient magick locked within the tree, but rather than going back in time, I think what you experienced was a sensation known as Tempus Distortion. It’s a spell or curse where the time and space in a given area can be locked away and triggered as visual and audible illusory message at a later date. The tree triggered the spell and depending on the power of those who laid it, the entire forest could be your distortion. From what you described, I would say the magick in these trees is very powerful to allow you to see such a great ways in either direction. How do you feel now?”

  Ravak held the water skin idly in his hands and Manya gently coaxed it up to his lips to encourage him to drink again. He took several big swallows, pushing the skin back to her and spoke again.

  “I feel fine. Perfectly normal. The spirit trees in our village hold no sorcery such as this. Why do you suppose they would have done such a thing?” He looked up at the seven hundred foot high canopy.

  “Quite likely it was done so a path could be found now in the Second Age or later Ages, where there would no longer be a path discernible and no longer anyone left that knew the way. It would seem your shamanic witch doctors new the days of the Dragon Rider Clan were numbered. At least, that’s the purpose it has served thus far. Your ancestors were very smart to do so or their spirit trees and Dragon’s Maw Keep might have been lost to the Ages forever. Do you feel well enough to try and make another connection with that tree or perhaps another?”

  She rubbed his hair and felt his head for fever. He had no fever that she could feel and he looked fine if only a little shaken and surprised by the entire affair.

  “I’ll try.” Turynn stated as he walked up to the tree with his hands out. He rubbed them together, blew into them, and reached out for the trunk of the great Rowenwood. He clenched his teeth and closed his eyes. He touched the bark. But nothing happened. He opened his eyes and looked at the other two, then touched the tree again. No result.

  “It’s likely that only a member of Ravak’s horde may bond with the spirit trees. A blood bond, so to speak. Though the magick appeared to be natural, it could have been set with ancient Blood Magick under a concealed aura. The Barbarians are a very private people and any of their witchdoctor
s powerful enough to lock a Tempus Distortion of this magnitude into an area this large would have ensured the magick could only be activated by one of his clan’s blood line,” Manya proclaimed as she helped Ravak up to his feet.

  “Try again. It’s safe.” She coaxed him gently toward the tree. “Try a different tree if you wish. I’d like to learn the extent of this magick.”

  He stepped up to a different tree a few yards down the road. He reached out for it and grasped the tree with intent this time and no hesitation. Again the searing white and green light filled his mind and body with the electricity of magick and he felt the pulsating power move through him. His eyes went green as he stepped back from the tree into the past of his ancestors once more. He looked up and down the road to find his bearing as he had the first time. He took off at a steady run in the direction of the Barbarians that had passed him by.

  He broke into a full sprint, his long strides carrying him a great distance in no time over the smooth hand hewn cobbles of the dwarven-constructed running road of his ancestors. Time seemed to stand still and the trees to either side of him whizzed by as if he were moving at an alarming rate, even for a Barbarian. Each stride carried him along at fifty of his normal paces. It felt like flying. He could imagine himself soaring high above the mountains atop a dragon back in the time of the Dragon Rider Clan. Ahead he could see people in the distance. Hoping they had not yet spotted him, he tumbled off to the side into the moss, trees, and rocks.

  Ravak hid himself behind a large rock with a couple of trees growing around it and waited as the travellers approached. They were speaking, but he couldn’t understand the language they used. Only some words were familiar while others were completely foreign to him. A family approached. They looked to be heading north toward the plains. They came with a small cart led by a ram. There was a mother and father riding in the front of the cart while two children played following along on foot.