Green Rising

by AZ Kelvin

  “I have orders to travel southwest and seek a fen where the plants have gone fatal to the touch.”

  “And this shadows your heart? For what reason? A worthy quest in the eyes of most. You have a chance to leave routine behind and challenge the blight of Acimasiz directly.”

  “Yet, such is what I feel I do”—he emphatically pointed at the ground—“right here.” He regretted the words even as he spoke them.

  “Ah, ah, ah,” she teased him. “The smaller self…”

  “Leaves room for the greater spirit,” he finished. “Yes, I know. It is not out of arrogance I grumble, Lissa, but from concern, there is danger that none other seems vexed by.”

  “The Seyna has stood for an age, Quin. It will still be here when you return. Complete your quest swiftly and come back to continue your vigilance all the quicker.”

  “Positive as usual, Lissa. What of your grove, travel or home?”

  “Grove Twelve and I travel south to Hearth’s Port, then northeast up past Cealjin Delta.” She glanced at him as she spoke. “Rumors of strange sightings in the delta have been heard and black mists have been seen farther upriver. We go to find the cause.”

  “Oh, I see,” he said. “They send you to our homeland and send me to the far end of Shaan.”

  “Sorry, Quin.”

  “Ehh, worry not, Lissa. I need to remember the battle against the ancient threat has to be fought on many fronts. Perhaps the answers we seek for questions here are to be found elsewhere.”

  “You may have the right of it there. Well, I have to go. Twelve waits upon my return. This is for you, Quin”—she kissed him—“and this is for Cassae.” She hugged him. “Give her my love.”

  “I will, and I know she returns it. May you have clear skies and fair paths all the way to Vakere.”

  “The same for you to the southwest. See you in a month or so.” She waved and was soon gone from view.

  A short walk and brief thoughts brought Quinlan to the commissary staging area where groves going on duty could gather supplies. He found the rest of Grove Seven preparing for the trails when he got there.

  He gave Cassae a hug. “That was from Lissa.”

  “Oh, that’s sweet of the girl. How’s she fairin’ these days?”

  “She’s well—she heads to Vakere and beyond in search of rumored black mists past the Cealjin.”

  “Ugh! That poor place may never be free of its curse and taint. And what of Grove Seven?”

  “We travel.” He clapped his hands twice. “All right, druids, change of plans,” he said as they came together. “Pick out your mounts and pack for a long journey.”

  “Horses? Where we be off to?” asked Sovia.

  “Northern Shaan.”

  “Shaan?” Cassae asked.

  “Yes, the council has ordered us to reconnoiter and evaluate Drifting Leaf Watershed.”

  “Driftin’ Leaf? That’s a fortnight’s ride from here,” Kian said.

  Ticca couldn’t hold back her excitement. “Two weeks on horseback? How wonderful!”

  Quinlan smiled at her enthusiasm and felt slightly embarrassed at his own misgivings about their assignment.

  “Are we ta survey and report only?” Therin asked.

  “No, we are to take action if warranted and possible,” Quinlan replied. “Sovia—”

  “Right!” Sovia got the grove moving. “Kian, take Ticari and Ticca. Go to the commissary and get seeds and sprouts to be growing our vittles with. Enough for nine for a moon’s time, mind you.”

  “Aye, Sovia,” Kian said. “All right, ye twain, let’s get goin’.”

  “A moon? But it’s only a fortnight’s ride,” Ticca said.

  “There, yah—we’ll be needing to get back as well,” Sovia replied. “Chyne, love, go have a word with our horses and let them know what be in the works.”

  “It shalt be so, Cinquey Sovia,” Chyne said and danced away toward the stables.

  “Leave me Therin, if you would, please,” Quinlan said to Sovia.

  “You got him, for all the good he be.” She laughed and landed a loving yet swift and hard smack on Therin’s behind before darting away on her short legs. “Cassae, Swela, let’s be getting the travel gear together.” Sovia quickly led them down the way to the quartermaster lodge. The laughter of the women drifted back as they disappeared around the bend.

  “Bed a wildcat, ya best expect ta get bit now and then.” Therin winked.

  The pleased look on the normally stoic man’s face made Quinlan laugh as he laid out the maps contained within his order packet. Together they began to plot their route to the Drifting Leaf Watershed. Even on this small travel map, the distance seemed great.

  “You’re familiar with this area of Shaan if I remember, right?” Quinlan asked.

  “Yi, Quin. I grew up in Goldenfield a day’s ride west of the watershed.”

  “Tell me of Drifting Leaf.”

  “An area so beautiful, brother, it was surely a gift of the old gods. Woods thick enough ta stop an arrow before its left the bow. It holds uncountable small lakes, fens, and rivers flowin’ eventually inta the sea down here near Trossachsmuir.”

  “All the way to the capital?”

  “Yi, the river from the watershed crosses Shaan from north ta south.”

  “Any old tales ever tell of it being a danger?”

  “Ni, Quin, none at all. It’s been huntin’ grounds since ancient times before the Kindred War.”

  “Hunting grounds, you say?” A new suspicion began to form in his mind. “The Cealjin Delta is also an ages-old hunting ground.”

  “Ya think it’s a quirk of happenstance or ni?”

  “What do all people need, Therin? Food and water—shelter matters not if one cannot eat and drink. If you weaken the food chain in an area, then strife and famine will surely follow.”

  “Driftin’ Leaf Watershed covers more ground than the eye can see. If it were ta become tainted…” Therin studied the map. Sadness passed over his face as he apparently realized how much land would be devastated.

  “We won’t let that happen, Therin,” Quinlan said. “I believe the dreyg are at work here turning key habitats into toxic wastelands, hoping the poison sinks deep into the heart of the land before time runs out to stop it.”

  “Why do my people turn a blind eye?” Therin asked. “The Gwylari and the druids’ve managed ta live with the land, yet the rest of Arden is usin’ up resources faster than ever before.”

  “Yes, well asked, indeed.” Quinlan nodded and looked over the map again. “If the dreyg destroy the resources people depend on, the kingdoms will crumble to ruin from the inside out.”

  “Can we not send word?”

  “The Primerey sent an envoy to Shaan, but they were turned away at the border and nearly set upon by Shaanlander guardsmen.”

  Therin shook his head. “Then the rumors are true. A Disciple of Nemilos resides in Trossachsmuir.”

  “I fear our appearance may not be welcome,” Quinlan said.

  “Ease your fear, brother, I know of trails where few tread, far from pryin’ eyes.”

  “I’ll count on your navigation through Shaan then.”

  “Yi, Quin. We should head here.” He pointed to a small range of mountains between Raskan and Shaan. “We can drop into Driftin’ Leaf through this pass with no one knowin’.”

  “Good. My gratitude. Now, we’d better go and help pack or we’ll never hear the end of it.”

  Therin smirked and put his hand over his heart. “Truth be told, brother!”

  *~*~*

  Chapter Eight

  A man stood in the province chamber of Castle Teivas Keihas, located in the central tower of the keep. He kept his body lean and wiry through the efforts of strict physical discipline. The pockmarked skin of his face and hands was tanned to a mottled bronze. Deep wrinkles around the mouth and eyes told of a life in harsh sun and dry air. Sharp facial features and dark eyes gave him the deadly calm look of a predator in waiting.
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  A long, narrow, lightweight cloth was wrapped and tied around his head with a small remnant hanging to the left shoulder. Triple-layered linen robes of white, grey, and then brown on the outside were tied at the waist with a sash of the same light grey cloth of his head wrap. Loose-fitting white pants of slightly heavier fabric than the robes were secured at the ankles above the sandals he wore.

  The province chamber was high in the main tower of Teivas Keihas ringed by overlooks offering a 360-degree view of Trossachsmuir below. Nearby was a large table with a diorama of the Shaanlander capital city spread out across its surface. The attention to detail of the miniature city was enthralling. Every color was correct, every aspect included. One could even look inside the buildings to see miniature room settings.

  The diorama, as wondrous as it was, did not hold the man’s attention this morning. Today he studied a different tabletop that held a map of Shaan and the surrounding territories.

  The ornate double doors of the province chamber were opened by two footmen stationed outside, granting passage to a man dressed in black leather armor. Black hair and beard speckled with white surrounded a face of the same bronze hue. Two long curved dirks sat in well-oiled crossed sheaths at the small of his back.

  The studded armor was covered with streaks of ghostly pale white and splotches of grey, which was the standard patterning of dreyg armor. The random pattern made it easy for dreyg agents to blend into the shadows of the world and go about unnoticed. Only a black-and-grey herringbone-weave aiguillette running from left shoulder to left breast distinguished this man from other dreyg personnel as the commandant of the dreyg on the northern continent.

  The man placed his right fist over his left breast and bowed slightly. “My Lord Praven.”

  “Do you have the new reports, Commandant Kwyett?”

  “Yes, my lord. In the north, Prince Kazim was turned away by the Raskan king, but dreyg agents have infiltrated three Raskan fiefs and begun tainting the wells there. Our forces—the king’s forces, I should say—have taken up positions along the Raskan border. In the east, Disciple Onidra and dreyg forces have ventured upriver of the Cealjin Delta and have buried the barrels of the shadow parasite infusion along the headwaters. They have already started to leach into the groundwater. In the south, the waters of Drifting Leaf Watershed now carry the infusion. The plants are toxic and animals there begin to show disease and madness. Estimates predict the infusion-laced waters will reach Trossachsmuir’s reservoirs within the month.”

  “Good. We will have that fool, Traelin, proclaim great festivals to deplete the stores they have on hand and when it comes time to replenish, they will find only sickness and death to reap. Their ignorance is of great benefit to us. They have no clue their affluence is helping to destroy the only being protecting them from their own extinction.”

  Kwyett looked away for the briefest of moments.

  Praven did not miss it. “They continue to be ignorant of our plans, yes?”

  “There was—an incident—my lord.”

  “Speak,” Praven nearly hissed the word out.

  “We discovered and killed a spy in Drifting Leaf.” Kwyett looked at Praven. “A druid.”

  Praven instantly considered and dismissed several initial responses before he allowed himself to reply. He let the anger flow from his eyes instead of his voice or actions.

  “Why wasn’t I informed immediately?”

  The effect was not lost on his subordinate and Kwyett swallowed visibly before replying. “I, ah—forgive me, Lord Praven, I thought the matter concluded with his death.”

  “If there is one druid, Commandant, does it not make sense to assume there may be more?”

  “Yes, my lor—”

  “They do travel in groves, do they not, Commandant?”

  “Yes, my—”

  “Did you conduct a search for any others, Commandant?”

  “No, m—”

  “Did the druid send off one of their forest friends with a message of warning, Commandant?”

  “I don’t know, my lord.”

  “Such things, Commandant, would be discovered through interrogation, would they not?”

  Kwyett no longer met his gaze. “Yes, my lord. I apologize for my lack of forethought.”

  Praven turned away for several minutes before speaking again. “We must consider the possibility that at least some portion of our plan may have been compromised. Increase the border troops along every inroad from Raskan and Vakere and fill the woods around the entire watershed with dreyg agents.”

  “I will see it done, my lord.”

  “And have the war masters maim several of the larger predatory beasts and set them loose in the watershed to wreak havoc.”

  “Yes, my lord.”

  “Gather your men and go back into Drifting Leaf. Perform the search you should have done when what could be gleaned was fresh.”

  “At once, my lord,” Kwyett replied and turned to leave.

  “Commandant—”

  “My lord?”

  “Another misstep from you would be an enormous disappointment to me.”

  “Understood, my lord.”

  The double doors opened again, but this time, the footmen stepped inside and came to attention.

  “The king!” they announced.

  King Traelin Tavish entered his provincial chamber followed by three chancellors, a sea captain of powerful stature, and four of the royal bodyguards. A scribe followed them in and took a seat at a small desk along a far wall.

  Praven and Kwyett both placed a right foot forward, swept their hands out palm up, and bowed at the waist.

  “Your Majesty,” they both said.

  Praven put on a friendly and benevolent face before he straightened to face the king. “Good day, Sire.”

  “Praven! Good day, honored architect. How goes the progress on the second capital city ta the north?”

  “The land has been cleared, Sire, and the foundations are being laid. Its spires will soon reflect the sun’s light all the way to the windows of Torr Amhairc and into the eyes of Renalth himself.”

  “Ha ha! I love it! Let my cousin behold the magnificence of Shaan every day upon wakin’.”

  “Indeed, Sire, all citizens should revel in our progress to show all of Arden how mighty and prosperous we have become. Let there be great feasts and festivals, Sire. Let the populace rejoice in your generosity.”

  “Show my cousin and the rest of Arden that Shaan has no fear of them either on the battlefield or in the marketplace. We’ll crush them with the heels of our boots or the weight of our coffers!”

  Praven had to play King Traelin with great care. No king would respond well if they discovered they had been made a fool of, especially at an opponent’s benefit. The king’s weakness was his desire to build an empire strong enough to unite Shaan and Raskan into one kingdom as it had been in ancient times but under his rule.

  Once a tan-skinned, battle-tested sea captain and explorer of far shores, King Traelin Tavish developed desires for finer things in his later years as his generous amounts of rounded body showed. The body tattoos of his early adventures had to be altered in order to hide how much they had stretched. It was often said the amount of silk and satin it took to outfit His Majesty for a week would fill a merchant ship.

  The king may have been soft of body, but his mind and eye were still sharp and he had no qualms about using force to rule his kingdom. Praven knew the times when he should push the king and when to back off. All he had to do was find a way to align his goals with those of the king and let the king’s desires do the rest.

  “Come and look over the new street plans, Sire, while I send Commandant Kwyett off with the day’s orders.”

  “Yes, of course.” The king turned and nodded to Kwyett. “Commandant.”

  Kwyett bowed again. “Good day to you, Sire.”

  “You may go, Commandant,” Praven said.

  “Yes, my lord,” Kwyett replied, turned to Traelin,
and bowed. “By your leave, Sire.” He nodded to the chancellors. “My lords.”

  Commandant Kwyett turned and came face-to-face with the sea captain, who made no effort to move out of the way. The tradition of Shaanlander sailors was to tattoo images on their bodies of the destinations they had reached. The tattooist filled the torso first before extending to the extremities. The man standing before Kwyett had tattoos down his forearms and on the backs of his hands, as well as up his neck and onto his clean-shaven head.

  Kwyett stepped to one side and bowed. “Good day, Prince Travell.” He waited a second for the reply he knew was not forthcoming before continuing on his way.

  ~~~

  “My son doesn’t think much of your agents, Praven.”

  “A clueless lot, Sire, but one must work with what one has.”

  Kwyett heard no more of the conversation as he left the province chamber and walked down several flights of stairs until he was no longer on the royal levels. He stopped and thought of how many places he could stick a dirk into the prince’s body without killing him right off.

  “I hate that f—” Kwyett cut himself off as he heard people around the corner. He pulled a dirk from its sheath and sliced a nearby plant in half before quickly moving on.

  Kwyett found solace in the fact that the blood of the prince would be on his blade once the approval was given to bring Shaan to its knees.

  Not many knew his face, but all recognized his armor and insignia and did their best to avoid engagement. The dreyg did not have an instantly violent reputation, but those who drew too much attention from the grim mercenary group soon suffered strange accidents or disappeared entirely.

  The stable hand brought his horse when he arrived. He checked over the strap adjustments before mounting the animal and riding out the main gate of Teivas Keihas. The ride down the castle’s entry ramp at a trot took him a quarter of an hour and thirty or so minutes more beyond that to get through the crowded city streets of Trossachsmuir. Another forty minutes at a gallop along the coast brought Kwyett to the dreyg encampment of Cradle Cove.

  A stableman took his horse when he arrived and his aide came up to meet him.