The living pillars were moist and warm. In fact, the entire room was warm. The light came from lichen growing on the walls and ceiling that pulsed with a green glow from within. Kamahl could better see the rings of the tree on the floor in this grand room, and the circles seemed to beckon him into the center.
In the middle of the room he found Thriss, the guardian spirit of the forest, and for the briefest moment, Kamahl was terrified. Thriss was a huge mantis, easily fifteen feet tall, complete with' the razor-sharp ridges on his arms and legs, each of which was longer than the blade on Kamahl's two-handed sword.
"Thriss, guardian of the forest," started the barbarian, "I have come to… I have come to…" But Kamahl wasn't sure why he had come. Up until this point, the journey had been all he had. That and those damn druid riddles.
"You have come to find your heart," boomed Thriss, lifting his head and spreading his arms wide. "The heart of the forest champion."
Kamahl shook his head. "No, I don't think so," said the barbarian. "I have learned much about life and the forest and magic from this journey, and I believe I am finally at peace with myself and with the Mirari. But I am no champion. I have come here only to bury the orb and be done with the eternal quest for power that surrounds the accursed thing. I have come here to lay it to rest, so that I may go make peace with my sister."
"You are wrong," said Thriss in the tone a father reserves for a child who must be taught life's lessons. "The orb is not cursed. It is but a tool, and its true purpose and power lies beyond what any who have touched it can imagine."
"What do you mean?" asked Kamahl. "What do you know of the Mirari? It is not of the forest. That much even 1 can tell."
"I have been observing the orb since before Chainer discovered it," said Thriss, bringing his arms up to his face again as if praying. "It is of this world but comes from beyond this world. It seeks knowledge not power, for it has no need of power. It is alive but has no thought, no purpose beyond the search for knowledge."
"But what of the visions it gives?" asked Kamahl. "And how can you say it isn't cursed after all the devastation it's caused on Otaria?"
Thriss dropped his arms and stared into Kamahl's eyes. "Who caused the devastation?" he asked. "The tool or the mage who used the tool? Did the orb create the visions or merely reflect what was already in the heart of those who gazed into it?"
Kamahl considered the guardian's questions and thought he was beginning to understand, but he didn't like the implications.
"Are you saying," he proposed, "that all those people- Kirtar, the mer emperor, Chainer, even me-that we're all evil, and the orb is just reflecting that and amplifying it? I can believe that about Kirtar and the emperor, though 1 did not know him. But I watched as that thing drove Chainer to his doom and then nearly lived through the same horror myself. Maybe the Mirari is just too powerful for mere mages to control. It controls us instead."
"Do you not control your sword, your horse, your magic?" asked Thriss. "Yes, the Mirari has power. But it is not powerful itself. Only the will of its owner gives the orb any true power- the power to destroy or the power to create. However, each and every one of you has good and evil inside, and evil is drawn to power, magnified by power. By rejecting that power, you have shown that the good in you is stronger than the evil. That is why you have been chosen. That is what gives you the heart of the champion."
"I have been a champion all my life," said Kamahl. "It has brought me glory but nothing else. In the end, my pursuit of power and glory has brought me nothing but pain and sorrow. If you want a champion, take the orb and give it to Seton. He has a fine heart."
Kamahl drew his sword and dropped it at the feet of the guardian, who picked it up and swung it expertly back and forth. The huge weapon looked like a dirk in the giant creature's claws.
"A true champion does not seek power or glory," said Thriss as he held the sword out in front of him and gazed into the orb. "A true champion uses his power to benefit people not to impress them. A true champion gathers power to protect the land not to destroy it."
Thriss handed the sword back to Kamahl and stared deep into the barbarian's eyes again. Kamahl felt as if the guardian was probing his mind and his spirit.
"Come back tomorrow," said Thriss finally, "and I will begin to teach you how to use your power to bring peace to your mind, how to find glory in the world around you, and even how to control the orb, so it can never control you again."
Kamahl considered the guardian's words. He had come all this way to find answers, and he owed it to Jeska and Balthor to find those answers.
"I will stay a while," he said. "But tomorrow's lesson better be more than riddles."
"I think you will like tomorrow's lesson," said Thriss. "Tomorrow I will teach you how to listen to the trees."
When Kamahl came out of the heart tree, his nantuko guide was waiting for him. "Have you been here the whole time?" asked the barbarian.
"No, I was meditating and helping to restore balance to the forest," said the druid. "The tree told me you were descending, so I came."
"What do the… residents here do?" asked Kamahl as the druid led him down and around the steps toward the back side of the clearing. "I mean, this is a huge village, but no one outside the forest even knows it's here. How do you survive without interacting with the other races? Even the barbarian tribes trade with the Order for grain to make bread."
"The forest provides everything we need-food, shelter, clothing," said the druid. "We want for nothing, and we waste nothing. We give to the forest, and the forest gives in return. It is an idyllic life."
"I had always thought of the forest as a harsh place where you were either predator or prey," said Kamahl as they stopped in front of a simple, two-hut dwelling.
"That is not harsh," said the nantuko. "That is merely life. You must understand, barbarian, death does not end life, it sustains life. There can be no life without death. It is as I said. We give to the forest, and the forest gives in return."
The druid passed his claw in front of the wall of the hut and opened a doorway in the brambles. "You will sleep here while you visit with Thriss. Can you find your way back to the guardian's chamber?"
Kamahl glanced at the nantuko through the corners of his eyes. "Head up the steps to the big tree in the center, right?"
The sarcasm seemed lost on the druid. "Very good." He said, nodding his head. "I will be in the fields tomorrow. It is my turn to tend the crops so another druid may begin her meditations. Good luck with your training."
Kamahl stepped into the hut and closed the doorway with a wave of his hand. "Does everyone always have to know every' thing about my life?" he asked the wall.
In the morning, Kamahl made his way back through the bowl-room corridor to the forest guardian's chamber. Thriss was just as the barbarian had left him: sitting in the middle of the chamber, apparently praying-what Kamahl now suspected must be meditating and balancing the forest as his guide had been doing.
"I have returned for my lesson, Thriss."
"The tree has told me," replied the giant mantis. "Can you not hear it whispering even now?"
"Of course not!" grumbled Kamahl. "We haven't begun the lesson yet."
The guardian lowered his arms to his sides and looked on the barbarian with what Kamahl could tell was sadness. "The first lesson you must learn is patience, my rash student," said Thriss. "Trees, especially ancient trees like this one, do not rush through life, and you must learn to match their rhythm if you wish to listen."
"My apologies, Thriss," said Kamahl. "How do I begin?"
"Meditation," said Thriss. "The heart of a tree beats in rhythm with the world, for it is tied to the world, a part of the world. Through meditation, you can learn to center yourself and extend your roots back into the world. Only then can you hear their whispers."
For a barbarian raised in the chaotic world of the nomadic tribes, this sounded like mystical gibberish. Men didn't have roots, and trees didn't have heart
s. But Kamahl had seen wondrous things in his life and was only now beginning to realize that there was more to the world than could be explained with a sword. The dwarf clans knew that. Jeska knew that and had tried to tell him. He vowed to keep an open mind.
"I can see you have doubts, barbarian," said the mantis guardian. "You must purge those doubts along with your nomadic past. Only through a true connection to the world will you find your center."
Kamahl nodded. "What must I do?"
"I will teach you a druidic meditation ritual," said Thriss. "In your mind, you will become a tree. Once you have mastered that, the trees may speak to you and the world can show you her secrets. The technique is simple, but perfection takes time and a clear mind. Are you ready?"
"I am."
*****
Kamahl focused, imagining his feet burrowing into the tree and his arms lengthening and growing leaves at the tips of his fingers. But after what seemed an eternity, nothing happened, so the barbarian dropped his arms to his side and opened his eyes.
"This is getting me nowhere, guardian," he said. "We should start with a different lesson."
"We are, Kamahl," said the mantis, raising his arms back up to his meditative pose. "This lesson is patience, and until you have mastered it, you cannot proceed. You cannot remember in minutes what has taken your body a lifetime to forget. Go now and practice this technique. Do not return until you have mastered the lesson."
"How will 1 know when I am done?" asked Kamahl.
"You will know. The trees will tell you."
Kamahl left the heart tree and retired to his hut, where he found a bowl of fruits and vegetables fresh from the gardens. He ate the entire contents of the bowl then began working on his lesson. Over the next two days Kamahl practiced becoming a tree, wandered the clearing, helped in the fields when needed, and slept.
At the end of the second day, he was frustrated with the lesson but content with his life. The heart of the forest truly was an idyllic place. The inhabitants lived in peace, working together without conflict for the good of the forest. The druids in the field brought food to those in meditation then took their turn replenishing the forest's energy through thought while others tended the fields.
"If only I could master the meditation ritual," Kamahl told his nantuko guide when the druid brought him his evening meal, "then I would truly feel like I belong here. But I still have doubts that break my focus before I can enter the trance. I lose patience."
"It is difficult the first time," clicked the nantuko, "especially for someone who has lived his life constantly moving from one place to another. But I believe you are close. If you wish to belong here, then all you must do is accept that this is your home, and the rest will come."
"I definitely cannot go back to the mountains again," said Kamahl. "That life belongs to another now. And there is nowhere else I would rather be than here in the heart."
"Try again tonight," said the druid. "I believe you are almost home."
After he supped, Kamahl wandered down into the fields where he had toiled earlier in the day. He loved the smell of the fruits and vegetables, and he had felt more connected to the world while working the soil than while meditating in his hut. Taking off his new boots so he could feel the dirt between his toes, Kamahl began the meditation ritual. He imagined his feet turning into roots and his arms into limbs. He tried to draw nutrients out of the soil to feed the emptiness within his body.
Then Kamahl was no longer standing on the field, a brass-skinned man with a family and troubles and doubts about the future. He was a tree in a world filled with trees, connected to the world and yet able to travel through the network of trees anywhere in the world. His heart slowed, and time seemed to slow right along with it, but his mind raced from tree to tree, and he could see the world sweeping along beneath him.
The barbarians were rebuilding in the mountains, like ants scurrying around and over an anthill. Cabal members were scuttling from the pits to the shops, betting and buying their lives away. Order patrols raced back and forth across the savanna, looking for some purpose in their lives. Kamahl sped across the world and then settled back into the forest, checking in on Seton and Jeska. The centaur stood over Kamahl's sister, mopping her brow with a damp cloth as she slept.
Kamahl then found Laquatas, marching through the forest with the Order troops, the Cabal raiders nowhere near the mer. And, for that matter, Kamahl noticed, there weren't any nantuko warriors anywhere near Laquatas. Kamahl tried to listen to what Laquatas was saying, but it sounded like bees buzzing. He did hear a voice, though.
"Welcome to our world, Kamahl," said the voice.
"Who said that," asked the barbarian, looking around at the forest surrounding the mer's camp.
"I did."
Kamahl saw the tree next to him move as the voice responded. "Are you talking to me?" he asked the tree.
"Of course," came the answer. "Isn't that what you have been trying to do the last two days?"
"Well, yes," said Kamahl. "I guess I got distracted by those warriors down there and forgot why I was here."
"You will learn to ignore unimportant matters like the lives of the flesh," said the tree. "Everything that lives eventually dies, but in death you complete the circle and provide for the living, go on living at a different level."
"As food?" asked the barbarian.
"Perhaps," came the answer. "Or soil, water, air. Some believe the spirit is reborn to live another life and learn more of the mysteries of the world."
"Well, I am concerned about a mystery in this world," said Kamahl. "Where are the nantuko warriors that should be fighting off these invaders?"
"Thriss recalled them," said the tree. "But do not concern yourself with these mortals. You have just taken your first step toward something far greater."
Kamahl barely heard the last words of the tree spirit. He was racing back toward his body, back toward the heart. He must warn Thriss of the danger. Left alone, Laquatas could and would destroy the forest to get to the Mirari. He must be stopped at all costs. Kamahl must make Thriss understand.
As the barbarian's spirit left the Order camp, he sensed one last presence waiting in the trees but had no time to dwell on the implications of the discovery. It was a dark, shadowy figure that seemed out of place in the world and yet familiar at the same time-a beast that was dead, but not dead, an undead creature Kamahl had once called friend.
CHAPTER 28
After the scare of the previous evening, Laquatas was almost happy to be moving again through the deadly forest. The nantuko always attacked at the edge of the phalanx, where they only killed soldiers. And though the wall of troops between him and the attacks was getting thinner every day, at least the mer knew what was attacking and where. But, the beast could walk right into camp, bypassing all his guards, and be on the threshold of his tent without so much as raising an alarm.
Last night proved it was personal. The beast wanted Laquatas dead, and the mer was almost afraid to go to sleep at night. Almost. He did have his new jack, the nantuko warrior he now had complete control over. These creatures were the best warriors he'd ever seen. Nothing could get past his new jack. Nothing. At least that's what Laquatas kept telling himself throughout the day.
Laquatas spent so much energy worrying about his safety that it was afternoon before he'd noticed there hadn't been a single nantuko raid since they started the march that morning. In fact, he couldn't sense a single predator within miles of their position. Laquatas called a halt while he scanned in a narrow arc out as far as he could. He found nothing threatening within ten miles in any direction.
"Corporal," he called, "it appears we have finally beaten back the nantuko. We are clear of enemies. Prepare for double-time march. Let's take advantage of our good fortune."
"Yes, sir," came the reply.
*****
The beast had seen the nantuko withdraw the night before. It had always known exactly where they were, for they were never far from its
position, just outside the mer's sensory range. But the sudden halt and Laquatas's circular deep scan took the beast by surprise. There was nowhere to run, so it took a chance. If the mer was merely searching for predators, large animals moving through the forest, it could fool the scan the same way it fooled the nantuko-with complete motionlessness.
Dropping behind a fallen tree, the beast stayed still, hoping the decaying log would mask its own dead flesh. Not even breathing, for it truly didn't need to, the beast was nothing more than a lump of dead matter when the mer's scan passed over. Afterward, the beast raised its head up over the log and watched as the phalanx jogged off. It would take the creature all day and much of the night to catch up to them, but it never tired and never ate, so it had time to kill. And tonight it would kill, it promised itself and its surrogate son. Tonight it would kill the mer bastard.
*****
The rest of the day passed without incident for Laquatas and the phalanx. The nantuko raids had come to a sudden, but welcome end. Laquatas no longer worried about the safety of his jack and let the beast lead the way through the forest. By nightfall, his fears had almost vanished.
"I will keep the bug in my tent again tonight, Corporal," he told his second in command. "The nantuko never attack at night, and it would seem they have retreated anyway. I'm sure your men are up to the challenge of guard duty without help."
"Yes, sir," said the corporal. "But what of the beast. He attacks every night. Surely you want the bug on patrol."
"I do not," said Laquatas. The mer wanted to keep his jack as close to him as possible and, knowing that he would spend much of the night in the underground caverns, needed the bug in the tent to keep the Order soldiers out as much as to fend off the beast.
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