Just let them try that nonsense up here, Chandra thought. She’d send them fleeing back to Zinara with their horses’ tails on fire.
In any event, the soldiers who patrolled the Great Western Wood were lucky that Samir had not been among those arrested. It would be amusing, though, if the soldiers took an elf prisoner next time they were meddling where they didn’t belong. Chandra imagined the storm that such a move would precipitate. The elves would never allow their way of life to be compromised by the Order.
Oh, yes, that would be worth seeing.
“Don’t mess with elves,” she muttered, gazing down at the darkened forest below Mount Keralia.
Ghost warden?” Chandra said. “What’s a ghost warden?”
“Normally, it’s a spirit from the land of the dead summoned to protect the living,” said her host, Samir Mia Kauldi.
Brannon cried, “I’ve heard of ghost wardens! They’ve got flowing white hair, and white armor, and no real legs, just wispy trails of magic dust where their feet should be! They float around in silence, spying on their masters’ enemies!”
Chandra looked to Samir for confirmation of this description as they walked through the forest, the dry twigs and leaves crackling under their feet.
He nodded. “‘Spying’ might be an exaggeration. As I said, they normally serve to protect, but the Order uses them to monitor the forest.”
“They have arms without hands, and white lightning bolts shoot out of the place where their fingers should be!” Brannon said.
“I’m told that it feels more like a sharp sting than a lightning bolt,” Samir said. “It startles more than anything else.”
Samir Mia Kauldi was one of Keral Keep’s staunchest allies in the Great Western Wood. He was well-respected among his fellow elves and shared Keralian values concerning personal freedom and the right to self determination, but, most importantly, he understood the consequences of the Order of Heliud’s ever-increasing influence on the plane of Regatha. If the Heliuds were allowed to continue asserting their “civilization” agenda on the rest of Regatha, it would, sooner or later, mean an end to the elves’ way of life. Their tribes would be broken up and individuals would be relocated to the camps where they would be “trained” as productive members of society. The forests, stripped of the protectors, would become resources for the cities, the trees a commodity to be managed by ministers. Samir had heard how some of the smaller forests in the distant east had been clear-cut and used for lumber, only to be replanted in neat rows so that their next harvest might be more efficient. The geometry of their placement, and the flat grid of roads laid down, cut the living spine of those groves and all but stopped the once-rich flow of mana. The elves who were able to flee the camps and cities returned to unrecognizable terrain, pine barrens, monocultures of ash or spruce. The Order had broken these forests into pieces and made sure they would not go back together.
Samir had told all of this to Mother Luti, but for years there had only been stories from far away. Now it was becoming a reality everywhere. But Luti, however her fighting spirit raged, was not getting any younger. Because the journey down the mountain to the forest below was physically demanding, she seldom made the trip herself anymore. She did insist on regular contact with the races of the woodlands that surrounded Mount Keralia, and often sent others in her place. They had to keep the Order’s power in check, especially since the mountains seemed to be next in line for the Order’s civilizing practices.
It was true that the Keralian pyromancers and the races of the Great Western Wood led independent existences, but they all shared this desire to limit the Order’s influence to the plains and the cities of Regatha. As Luti said, they must be taught that fire and forest, much like their government, knew nothing of mercy.
Alone among the woodlanders, Samir Mia Kauldi actively agreed with Luti about this. He realized that the ghost wardens and mounted patrols were only the beginning of what was to come, but many in the forest remained unconvinced and dismissed the Order’s encroachment as border skirmishes. Most believed that the stories of entire forests razed and replanted in the east would be impossible in an area as vast as the Great Western Wood.
Samir was short for an elf, with smooth skin the color of freshly-turned soil. He had a lithe build, a soft voice, and a round face that looked older than his years, possibly because of the perpetually harassed look that he carried with him like a empty coin purse: that is to say, without enthusiasm. Although he was a respected tribal chief and skilled summoner, his exhortations against the Order were met with little acceptance by other inhabitants of the woodlands. That wasn’t to say he did not have support. Samir was known far and wide to summon the greatest beasts of Regatha. His status as chief had remained unchallenged because of this, and no tribe would dare question his authority, but might did not necessarily make right among the woodlanders. Much as it was with the Keralians, tribes—and the individuals who made them up—were given the right determine their own future, whether for good or bad, so long as it was not disruptive to the harmony of life in the forest.
Samir first came to the monastery as a supplicant. Since then the Keralians had been prepared to offer whatever assistance necessary. Chandra relished the opportunity to leave the monastery, so often volunteered to act as a liason to Samir and his loose association of druids, elves, and oufes.
It had been two days since her heated discussion with Brother Sergil about the scroll, and Chandra had decided to bring Brannon along as company on the long trek to Samir’s small village deep in the woods.
The boy was clearly excited by the news that ghost wardens had been seen in the Great Western Wood.
“So what does a ghost warden do besides float around and sting people?” Chandra asked Samir.
“It only stings,” Samir said, “if threatened.”
“Whatever,” Chandra said. “What good are they if they don’t do anything?”
“The order uses them as spies,” Samir said. “Rather than have them protect a living being, as was originally the intention of a ghost warden, they have them watch over the forest in general. The summoners share a psychic link with the warden and so are able to sense when things are out of the ordinary.”
“Its summoners? You mean the Order of Heliud?”
“Yes. It is said that the summoner, once alerted by the ghost warden, will dispatch a patrol to the area in question.”
“You’re sure about these sightings?”
“So sure,” Samir said, “that I have recently returned from Zinara, where I went to speak to Walbert himself. And I tell you Chandra, a more ridiculous place you will never find. They put plants in pots to decorate windows that look out on other windows with still more potted plants. They contrive fountains, which are absurd stone structures that trickle water in a meek imitation …”
“Wait, I know what a fountain is. The high priest of the Order agreed to see you?” Chandra asked in surprise. Walbert III wasn’t reputed to be a very accessible man.
“Only after I spent two days insisting I would not leave the grounds of the Temple until I was granted an audience. It was a harder task than you can imagine sitting on flagstones amid those tortured trees. Can you believe they top the trees to stunt their growth? Imagine the arrogance that imposes Heliudic aesthetic values on nature. Even flowers are made to look like wounds on their hideously stripped stalks.”
“So you confronted him?” Chandra said with relish.
“Yes. I demanded to know by what right the Order sent soldiers into our land to arrest us, and I said these ghost wardens must be withdrawn from the Great Western Wood.”
“What did Walbert say?”
Samir made a disgusted sound. “It was infuriating, my friend. Walbert claimed that, in the interest of ‘unity’ throughout these lands, the laws which govern the cities and the plains are being extended to govern the woodlands, too. The ghost wardens have been summoned to patrol this vast woodland for our protection.” His tone twisted the final
word into an epithet. “And the soldiers are only enforcing fair and just laws that have been passed in the interest of preserving safety and … order. As if they have any understanding of protection, let alone fairness and justice.”
Chandra was appalled. “Walbert is claiming the Order has authority over the woodlands?”
Samir nodded. “And he’s enforcing that claim with the might of his soldiers and the skill of the Temple mages.”
“He can’t do that!”
“I said that to him.” Samir shook his head. “In response, he offered me some pompous title in exchange for encouraging my people to abide by the laws of the plains. That, or I could remain in violation of some law and he would jail me. I decided to retreat and fight another day.”
“So he’s trying to take over the Great Western Wood.” Chandra said in outrage. “That’s unbelievable!”
“He will find it a more difficult task than he supposes,” Samir said darkly. “The other tribes have been reluctant to enter into conflict with the Order, but if they continue to arrest druids for summoning hunters, perhaps I can bring others to my side.”
“What will they want next?” Chandra said with contempt. “Control over Keral Keep? Do they imagine that the rule of the Order can spread to the mountains?”
“That may not be beyond the scope of their ambitions,” Samir warned her. “They see the monastery as a threat. They think the Keralians are destructive and their teachings dangerous.”
“It wasn’t enough for them to outlaw fire magic in their own lands? They think they can outlaw it on Mount Keralia?” Chandra shook her head. “They’d have to be crazy to believe that.”
“Why do they hate fire?” Brannon’s red eyebrows creased in a frown on his young, freckled face. “I like it. And everyone needs it, after all.”
“They hate it because fire takes no holiday, kiddo,” Chandra said, but the boy only looked confused. Truth be told, Chandra was confused by the statement too, but she had heard Mother Luti say it so often that it seemed appropriate here.
“They don’t hate fire, precisely,” Samir said to the boy. “I’m not even sure they hate fire magic.”
“Of course they do,” Chandra said. “Why else would they punish pyromancy with death in Zinara?”
“They punish it with imprisonment,” said Samir. “You only get executed if you commit violence with your fire magic.”
“Whatever,” she said. “Either way, they obviously do hate fire magic. Or more likely, they’re afraid of it.”
“I think what they don’t like,” said Samir, “is the nature of those who wield it. The Order of Heliud believes that no one is above the law. The law equalizes.” He shrugged. “Isn’t it true that you Keralians believe there is no law greater than the will of fire? You believe fire burns the criminal and the prosecutor equally, yes? The Heliuds believe that the righteous may pass through fire unscathed.”
Chandra frowned. “What are you talking about?”
“I am talking about the Purifying Fire.”
“The what?”
“The Purifying Fire.” When Chandra and Brannon just stared at him blankly, he said, “Oh. Of course. Neither of you has ever been to Zinara?” They shook their heads. “And probably few members of the monastery have been there, either. Or know much about the Order of Heliud.”
“Mother Luti tells us that relations between the monastery and the city have been tense for years.” said Chandra. She knew that the woodlanders had been on civil terms with the people of the plains and the city until Walbert’s ambitions had become too evident to ignore any longer.
“Yes.” Samir nodded. “Those who feel the lure of Mount Keralia have little in common with those for whom order and structure are paramount. It’s a very … different sort of perspective.”
“It certainly is,” Chandra said with distaste. “So what does fire have to do with the Order of Heliud?”
“The Order’s power is said to come from something called the Purifying Fire. No one I know has ever seen it, and it is said that only a very select few within the Order have access to it, but it is believed to be a source of pure mana that dances perpetually like a flame in the ancient caverns beneath the Temple. The legend says that Heliud was a holy figure in the city of Thold across the Great Sea. He was accused of heresy, crimes against Thold, or some such thing. Regardless, Heliud was exiled along with his followers who believed his promise of a founding a shining city was indeed guidance from the Divine Will. The journey across the sea was long—they lost many of their number to sickness, and when they made landfall many more were lost to the vagaries of the wild.
“When they finally arrived at the site where Zinara was founded, Heliud’s followers were beginning to doubt his plan, or even if he had one. He was facing opposition by one of his followers, a man named Zin who believed they could go no further. They should settle. Heliud was unfit to lead them. The promised land he spoke of was a fever dream. Zin had the support of the majority and Heliud, emaciated and weak from the journey, was facing exile again.”
“You seem to know a lot about this, Samir,” said Chandra. “You got some sympathies you aren’t telling us about?” She grinned to take away the sting of the words.
“During the time I spent in protest on the grounds of the temple, an acolyte would come out and educate me on the history of Heliud. Anyway, to get to the point, Heliud returned to camp some days later. He had returned to peak physical form except that his once-lustrous black hair had gone as grey as the silver fox. When questioned about his transformation, Heliud said that he had found the physical manifestation of the Divine Will in a flickering white flame in some nearby caverns. He had thrown himself into it as penitence for failing to recognize the signs he’d been given, but rather than dying as expected, he emerged revived, stronger even than he had been before, proof of his righteousness. He claimed the fire had cleansed him of error and chosen him as the sole arbiter of Divine Law on Regatha.
“Zin still had loyal followers, many of whom believed that Heliud’s revitalization was somehow demonic in its origin. Heliud challenged Zin, saying that the Fire would be the judge of right and wrong. They had to go, one and the other, to face the Purifying Fire. As you might imagine, only Heliud emerged.”
“What happened to Zin?” asked Brannon.
“It’s interesting that you ask, Brannon, because I wondered the same thing. Heliud told his followers that Zin’s body had vaporized in the flame. The followers of Zin did not believe this explanation, but they never found his body, for as long as they searched the caverns. They were eventually mollified when Heliud named their settlement in Zin’s honor. They hold Zin sacred still, saying that his opposition was divinely inspired to test the truth of Heliud’s leadership.”
He paused, seemingly unwilling to finish the tale, but finally added, “Walbert is the successor to this legacy and the custodian of the Purifying Fire.”
“Well, doesn’t that just figure,” said Chandra in disgust. “The members of the Order have forbidden fire magic to everyone in their land while drawing their own power from fire? Or from something that’s just barely similar to fire?”
A flame that was cold and white didn’t sound much like fire to her. It sounded as rigid and deadly dull as she imagined the members of the Order were.
Chandra was passionate about the heat and fury of fire magic. She loved the gold, orange, yellow of explosions, the blood-red blazes of pyromancy. What was the point of something cold, white, and hidden underground? Surely there was no beauty in that. No glory, or passion, or thrill.
“The Order has forbidden fire magic in their lands,” Samir agreed, “and now they want to restrict our way of life in the Western Wood, too. Certain practices are still allowed, Walbert told me, because he says the laws issued by the Order are not, in his judgment, unreasonable. But now other supposedly-dangerous practices such as summoning are forbidden to us.” Samir’s normally gentle expression grew thunderously angry. “And the ghost
wardens are the Order’s means of spying on us in our own land!”
“They have no right,” Chandra said. “None!” Samir rarely raised his voice, but he did so now.
“But at least a ghost warden doesn’t sound like it can be a very good spy,” Chandra said with a frown. “I mean, I’d sure notice it sneaking up on me, if it looks like what Brannon described.”
“Me too!” said Brannon.
“Actually, it’s more effective than you suppose,” Samir said. “It’s completely silent, after all. No feet or hands. We have many unusual things in the forest—”
“No argument there,” said Chandra.
“—but we’re not used to entities without any limbs. Well, apart from snakes, but you get my meaning.”
“I don’t like snakes,” Chandra said frankly.
The shadowy forest felt claustrophobic to Chandra, who was much more used to the scenic vistas of mountain living. The woods were teeming with life, much of it strange and unnerving: carnivorous flowers whose sweet scent lured the unsuspecting, poisonous insects that posed as plants, ill-tempered beasts that resembled moss-covered rocks, and monsters that looked like trees, among many others. Dirt, noise, fungus. None of it appealed to Chandra, but it did offer time away from the other Keralians, who could become quite boring in their devotion.
Even so, sitting on the dry ground outside Samir’s leafy hut, and politely pretending to drink some insipid beverage flavored with mashed plant roots, Chandra felt eager to return to the monastery and tell Mother Luti what she had learned today. If creatures of the Order were roaming the woods now, how much longer would it be before the Order tried to intrude onto Mount Keralia?
“Hardly anything moves through the forest without making a sound,” Samir said. “But these creatures do. Lately, numerous woodlanders have been surprised to notice a ghost warden watching them without having any idea how long it had been there.”
The Purifying Fire: A Planeswalker Novel Page 3