Green Rising (The Druids of Arden Book 1)

by AZ Kelvin

  “Ahh, it’s nice to have the grove back together, eh?” asked Quinlan. “Come, let’s get moving. We need to get to the conclave for the rotation meeting.”

  “Where’s Sovia and Therin?” asked Ticari.

  “There.” Kian pointed down the trail.

  A woman of the Kalnuvian people walked into view and waved joyfully when she saw them. The northerner was joined by a Shaanlander man of great height, next to whom Sovia seemed only as tall as a child. Sovia and Therin had each received an élan from their quests to find a familiar. Quinlan’s case was the only time in the history of the Order that the familiar had not turned out to be an animal.

  The two not only had élans as familiars, but their affection for the avian creatures was reciprocated by the élan in general as well. Groups of élan would come down to travel with the pair as they wandered the different woodland paths and shared with them the happenings of the local woods. No other druids had such a strong connection to the élan as Sovia and Therin.

  “Lah ahm, everyone!” Sovia called out as the group moved closer to them. Therin smiled warmly and stretched out his hand in a motionless wave that was the standard greeting from the reserved and quiet man.

  Sovia’s came from a Kalnuvian city in the farthest northern reaches of Arden. She was a fair example of her people except for being shorter than most in height. Along with her pale skin and light blue eyes, however, she bore a mess of white hair well known for its ability to overwhelm any hair tie.

  The one area where Sovia was respectively unique, however, was her short and stout legs. She had to walk three times as fast as Therin to cover the same distance. She won Quinlan’s respect the day he saw Sovia’s energy more than compensated for the length of her strides, and not only did she manage to keep up with the grove, she was often the last one needing to stop for the day.

  Therin was much the opposite of Sovia in some ways, but their spirits bonded the moment they first met during their studies at the Central Conclave. Therin was tall and stood a head taller than even Quinlan and Kian. Thin black hair, braided as a rule, usually snaked around to hang over his right shoulder. Sparse facial hair grew from several scraggly patches like someone carelessly scattered beard seeds over the field of his face. The slim torso and much of his arms and legs were covered with many tattoos of his travels, which was the custom of the seafaring Shaanlander people. The sea still called to Therin, but his duty to the Order was stronger, and the tattoos beneath his tunic were not of endless waves and distant shores, but of the Great Marsh, the Seyna, and Fairtheora within.

  “Shin Lahqui, Sovia! Greetings, Therin!” Quinlan called back to them. “Stay there—we’ll come to you!”

  Sovia and Cassae shared the long embrace of sisters when the two groups came together. The two had met when they entered the Order on the same day and traveled together ever since. When Cassae took time off to deal with the loss of her family Sovia stepped up to the second-command position. The rest of the grove welcomed the new arrivals and made sure they were both caught up with current events.

  The small talk continued as they gathered themselves up and made their way down to the conclave hall. Quinlan again reflected on his concerns about where he really had been during his time off. The changes in the land around the Seyna and the increasing number of weak spots in the flaura indicated something was affecting the energy in the land itself.

  The key to keeping Acimasiz confined was the continual flow of energy through the Great Marsh. If the flaura had truly weakened, then the other conclaves must be told and steps must be taken to discover the cause. A shadow began to grow in Quinlan’s mind—a shadow he hoped Bertrynn, his friend and immediate superior, could shed some light on. His thoughts returned to the present as Grove Seven emerged from the forest and onto the grounds of the Northern West Conclave.

  “Shin Lahqui,” hailed the gateman as they approached. “Come up and name yourselves.”

  “Shin Lahqui! Siestrey Quinlan and Northern West Grove Seven, all members reporting for rotation.”

  “Welcome Siestrey.” The gateman cleared them in. “Tretjey Sayon is here and requests a gathering of all grove leaders in the conclave hall before the rotation meeting.”

  “Very well—gratitude,” said Quinlan as he and the others passed into the conclave. He wondered at the special meeting and if there was a connection to his own discoveries in the Great Marsh.

  “Why the furrowed brow?” Cassae asked him.

  “Tretjey Sayon wanting to speak to the grove leaders, that’s odd,” he said to them all and after a thoughtful moment turned to Sovia. “Take the grove, gather supplies and what news you can. I will talk with the Tretjey and catch up with you after the meeting.”

  “It’ll be done, brother,” replied Sovia.

  She and the others moved off to collect patrol supplies and mingle among the ranks to gather the latest news and gossip. Quinlan had a foreboding sense the Tretjey’s presence here and the weakening he had found in the Seyna was no coincidence. A million thoughts raced through his head as he entered the hall for a meeting with the leader of the Northern West Conclave of the Order of Arden.

  *~*~*

  Chapter Four

  Primerey Joseah prepared for her day at the Central Conclave. She often thought the reason to have a leader was to have someone to throw stones at when you’re unhappy. Her daily schedule was already planned down to the last minute. She rarely had time anymore to walk the marsh trails she loved so much.

  A pregnant young woman waited for her outside of the bedchamber. “Lah ahm, Bekka.”

  “Lah ahm, Primerey. Did ye sleep well?”

  “Wonderfully,” she answered. “And you?”

  “Only just, ma’am.”

  “Joseah, Bekka, you can call me Joseah.”

  “I know I can, ma’am, and gratitude, yet it brin’s me comfort, if ye dinnae mind.”

  “Not at all, Bekka,” Joseah said. “Are you still having a hard time sleeping?”

  “Aye, but nae too bad.” Bekka said. “Ma love built a cot and one end sits upright against the wall, so I dinnae have ta sleep lyin’ flat.”

  “Oh, how brilliantly creative. It sounds like he will be a wonderful father. I am so happy for you, Bekka.”

  “Gratitude, ma’am, I cannae imagine bein’ happier. The conclave ’tis a beautiful place ta be raisin’ a family.”

  “I couldn’t agree more.”

  “Little Taryl do be in a rush, truth be told. He be runnin’ the marsh trails already and he’s nae even out of ma womb.”

  “Ha ha! You are a blessing of joy from Na’veyja, my dear,” Joseah said. “What does our day look like today?”

  “A full day again, ma’am,” she replied.

  “Yes, of course it is. Well, I am famished. Shall we head for the meal hall?”

  “Indeed, ma’am, even though I’ve had a breakfast already”—Bekka patted her swollen belly—“I could do with a second.”

  “Well, of course,” Joseah replied. “Who doesn’t appreciate a second breakfast?”

  The two women left the private chambers of the Primerey, heading to the meal hall before they started their day of conferences, inquiries, and discussions with various leaders of the Order of Arden.

  Later, after Joseah’s long day was done, she sat in an open-air pavilion filled with low seats, where druids often came to meditate. A Raskanish man entered the pavilion and sat down beside her.

  “Shin Lahqui, Silari,” she said.

  “Shin Lahqui, Joseah,” he replied.

  “I remember my time serving as Segoney,” she said. “The Primerey is the only rank above, yet to this day, I believe the office of Segoney is the most unappreciated position in the Order. The three of you must deal with me here in the Central Conclave, then go and deal with the Tretjeys of each of the three guardian conclaves. And on a regular basis at that. It was maddeningly enjoyable.”

  “I agree with ye,” he replied. “’Tis a pain and pleasure both, a
nd I’d have it nae other way. ’Tis also why, at times, I must disrupt the peaceful afternoon of ma superior.”

  “Dung,” she said.

  Silari looked around to see if anyone heard. “Primerey…”

  “Oh, pbfff, dung, dung, dung. When you’ve reached my age you can curse in the meditation pavilion or anywhere else. Cursing is what gets old people out of bed in the morning. Come then, share your dung.”

  “The Wardens of the Woods have sent a message.”

  “Ech, the War-dungs,” she said.

  Silari broke out in laughter.

  “Apologies, my friend, I know of your affinity for them,” she said.

  “And I, in turn, know of the bad blood between ye, so I dinnae brin’ this ta ye lightly.”

  “Proceed.”

  “They say Fairtheora is in danger.”

  “From?”

  “They dinnae rightly know.”

  “Unsurprising.”

  “They warn of more attacks from the dreyg like the one at Cealjin years ago. The druid outposts in the south and southeast have reported foreigners in Shaan. They say the dreyg are in Driftin’ Leaf Watershed.”

  “Nonsense.”

  “Are ye gonna answer with anythin’ but a single word?”

  “Perhaps.”

  “Joseah.”

  “All right,” she said, “The southern outposts, have they sent in groves to investigate?”

  “Aye, they were attacked by Shaanlander troops and soldiers in strange grey light armor.”

  “The dreyg.”

  “Aye, but why would Shaanlanders attack us?”

  “Something ill is at work here, Silari. What news of the Cealjin Delta?”

  “A renewed stench comes down from upstream.”

  Joseah closed her eyes a few minutes. “Send out two groves, one to the Cealjin Delta and one to Drifting Leaf Watershed. I will perform an ethereal separation and inspect the Seyna and Fairtheora. If anything is amiss there, or in the Great Marsh, it should stand visible to my spirit’s eye.”

  “I will send word ta have the groves sent out immediately,” he said. “Lah quen, Primerey.”

  “Gratitude, Silari, lah quen to you.”

  Joseah sighed, resettled herself, and relaxed. She blended her inner self with the world around her. She cleared a space for her spirit in the ethereal plane between the two realms. She often felt a lifting sensation during the ethereal separation. Her spirit rose from her body until it floated free in the ethereal plane like a spider riding the wind on the end of a silk string.

  Joseah’s spirit drifted out past the conclave and into the Great Marsh. She tuned in to every aspect of each animal and bird and even the plants themselves. Druids on rotation moved along trails that ran throughout the wetlands and the valley containing them. The reed-filled lowlands gave way to stands of trees filtering the sunlight and farther on to thick forests covered by canopies that almost blocked the sun completely.

  Joseah moved her spirit deeper into the Great Marsh. Stands of large trees grew so closely, the deer of the forest could barely run straight. From the ground, one could not see more than two or three layers away in any direction.

  A mist hung in the air seeping and flowing over roots and around tree trunks. It pooled in low places obscuring the ground and hiding mud pits. Tributaries and streams housed the aquatic and amphibian life living among the tree roots. The glow of flaura came from everywhere coloring the mist in a myriad of blended colors.

  Joseah’s spirit eye saw the Seyna rising from the root-covered ground of the Great Marsh. The sacred circular hedge stood tall and curved slightly inward at the top. The glimmer of the flaura was bright and all seemed well. Life nested in the Seyna, life walked around it, life crawled through it, and life called it home.

  The area around the base of the hedge was lined by twisted brambles and pits of quick mud. The area within the Seyna was filled with vine-covered trees, thick snarly brush, and massive roots intertwined and covered with moss like a pit of giant green pythons.

  Joseah let her spirit drift in place to admire the scene before her. An oak tree larger than any ever to exist on Arden grew in the middle of the sacred circular hedge.

  Fairtheora, the living oak prison of Acimasiz, stood in the geographical center of the Seyna and the conclave grounds surrounding it as well. Na’veyja cast most of her ethereal essence into the wood of the tree when she and the Gwylari trapped Acimasiz within. The flaura of Na’veyja’s grace ran bright all the way into the upper branches and out into the leaves. Layers of stout vines encased Fairtheora’s trunk to protect it from cutting. Not a thing had changed since she did her last ethereal inspection of the Order of Arden’s confinement complex.

  Acimasiz was still confined inside Fairtheora, shielded by the Seyna in the middle of the Great Marsh, encircled by the conclave grounds and an army of guardian druids.

  Then why do these nagging visions of fire and smoke still plague my dreams and harass my meditations over the past month? her spirit wondered. Should I tell Silari and the other council members? Should I heed the Warden’s warning? Are they more than just rogue druids?

  Joseah spread her awareness out past the Seyna in all directions at once. No concern became visible to her spirit’s eye as she held her focus for a while longer. She saw a druid with a staff traveling the trails of the Great Marsh alone. She wondered why his grove was not with him. He stopped and chanted by the Seyna and filled a spot where the plants had died. Such occurrences were not unheard of, but had been uncommon until the alarming increases of dead or dying plants in the Seyna over the recent months.

  Is there a connection between my visions and what is happening to the plants of the Seyna? I must look further.

  She focused on the plants of the Seyna, touching roots, stems, and leaves with her spirit. The druid’s staff burst briefly with silvery-white light like sunlight glinting off milky quartz. A plant began to glow with the same light and then many dozens of plants around the Seyna pulsed once in succession and dimmed leading to where the druid with the staff stood now.

  How many plants have withered unknown to me? Why have I not seen this before? Was it the staff? Did it show it to me? What else have I not seen?

  Joseah concentrated her spirit’s eye on Fairtheora. The glowing flaura flow shimmered as it moved in and around Fairtheora. The shifting movement was filled with ebbs and flows of colors and hues. Joseah always found it mesmerizing and calming.

  A spark suddenly popped off the trunk and sailed through the flaura. The spark startled Joseah and chased away the peaceful moment. Another spark flew off the tree and then five more. Soon the sparks became constant, shooting away in sparkling showers.

  No! she screamed in her mind, but her spirit could take no action.

  The sparks on Fairtheora ignited into flames which quickly engulfed the tree. The flames roared and grew until they exploded from the tree in a globe of fire. The inferno passed through her spirit in a flash and was gone. Fairtheora stood before her whole, unharmed, and wrapped in Na’veyja’s grace.

  Joseah was stunned by what she had seen. Never before had the visions fire and smoke included Fairtheora. Hesitantly she tried to spread her awareness again. She reached out with her spirit and held it extended once more. Only the deep quiet of the Great Marsh remained as it had for generations.

  She called her spirit back and closed the space between realms. Now that her body and spirit had been reunited, Joseah opened her eyes. She sat and thought about her ethereal journey. She was not sure how to interpret the vision she had of Fairtheora.

  Is the fire symbolic and of what? Are these visions portents of things to come? Surely Fairtheora is protected well enough. Na’veyja herself stands guard within and the Order stands vigilant without. I should tell Silari and the druid council of my visions.

  The sound of people moving around the pavilion drew her back to the present. Druids walked among the woods, conversed on druid matters, with peace and contentmen
t everywhere.

  No, no need to share my visions of fire and smoke yet, she thought. It would cause a panic. I will keep my own council on this. I will tell them of the Seyna and the increasing deaths of plants there. We must investigate that much more closely. Joseah left the pavilion feeling positive about the decision. Yes, but we shall do so without those woodland heretics, the Wardens.

  Silari walked out of a building with a group of clerical staff as the day had ended and it was time for the evening meal.

  “Joseah! Join us,” he called to her.

  She waved and caught up with them.

  “How was yer journey?” he asked.

  “Everything is as it should be, Sil,” she replied. “All is well with Fairtheora and I see only a small issue where the Seyna is concerned. We should increase grove patrols of the inner trails along the Seyna’s perimeter and council them to be vigilant of even the smallest changes.”

  “Very good then,” he said. “I’ll put the Warden’s message down as the ramblin’s of storm crows.”

  “Yes, all is well,” she said again. “Tell me, who is the druid with the walking staff familiar?”

  “He is called Quinlan, comes from Calamere in Vakere.”

  “The site of the red plague years ago?”

  “Aye.”

  “What conclave?”

  “Northern West.”

  “That’s Tretjey Sayon. Send word to Sayon. I would like to speak with him.”

  “I’ll set it up.”

  “Thank you, Sil. Now let’s eat!”

  *~*~*

  Chapter Five

  Quinlan made his way to the upper walkway which ran along the perimeter of the compound. The opposite side of the compound was far enough away, people who walked there were nothing more than vague shapes and colors even to his keen eyes. The meeting chamber of the Adjutant was across the compound from the entrance he and Grove Seven had used, and many of the grove leaders had already gathered. He identified himself to the attendant at the door and entered the chamber, which was filled with a number of grove leaders that was far beyond normal. Animal and bird familiars moved about the chamber tending to the various errands of the druids inside.