The Tome of Arbor (The Legend of Vanx Malic Book 9)

by M. R. Mathias

  With that, Vanx went back down, returned twice more to get more water, and then latched his cabin door behind him. He hadn’t noticed Gallarael, laying on his bunk, all naked and lithe, smiling up at him.

  “I like it when you’re clean,” she grinned, rolled over, and used her biceps to squeeze and accentuate her ample cleavage in an inviting way.

  Vanx couldn’t resist her, and Poops leapt from the bunk to allow them room. The dog lapped clean water from the bucket, then turned a circle on the floor before getting comfortable.

  “Come, Vanx.” Gallarael growled. He went to her, pulling off his sark as he went. He slid into bunk beside her and relished the feel of her hot skin against his.

  The idea of her changeling skin, slipped into his mind, but he fought the revulsion. In fact, he relied on that sickening emotion to keep him from climaxing, over and over again, every time he was about to come, he thought about her slick, hardened, glossy black hide.

  The method proved to be effective, for they made love long into the night and, when Vanx finally filled her with his seed, it felt as if the end of his manhood had exploded in a bone tingling burst of ecstatic elation.

  He must have fallen asleep, for he woke naked in his bunk, with his arm around Poops, to Ronzon’s excited call of, “Land Ho!” coming from above.

  He didn’t feel good, and neither did Poops, but he stabbed the dog, and then himself with the glaive, and got dressed. It made them feel better, but there was something wrong, and Vanx hoped he could find a linguist and a healer, thus solving all their problems at once.

  The nagging feeling that the jacaranda Heart Tree was in pain, and the forest around it, needed him, was in the back of his skull, too.

  He knew they didn’t have time to dally.

  Chapter

  Twenty-Seven

  Old Master Wiggins,

  finally died of gout,

  but he wouldn’t fit a coffin,

  ‘cause his leg was sticking out.

  – A Parydon street ditty

  Amakra Malic passed away when Vanx was thirty-six years old. She was taken by a merciless wasting disease that was exclusive to those of Zythian blood. It was a sudden thing. One year, she was glowing and full of life, the next she was a withered husk, empty of all but love for her only son. She was young by Zythian standards, barely a hundred years old. Her life had caused a hurricane of emotion to assail the hearts and minds of the Zythian elders, and not just because of her choice of an infamous human mate. In her life, Vanx’s mother had challenged ancient customs and pushed the boundaries of the old ways at every opportunity.

  They warned that her mixed-blood child would be stillborn, just as scores of others had been in the past. They said her heart would break when she outlived her lover and was forced to watch him die. They said the Goddess would shun her for breaking so many traditions, and that she could only be considered Zythian because of her blood.

  Vanx’s birth changed all of that. He wasn’t stillborn, and his father died at sea on a merchant ship taken by pirates off the coast of Harthgar. Her husband never had the chance to grow old before her eyes.

  The Goddess smiled upon her brightly enough that she lived to see her son mature. Some said her death was a punishment for the life she lived, but she told Vanx from her deathbed, that her life had been a great and wondrous happening. She’d known love; she’d turned heads and raised eyebrows.

  She knew she had given birth to an impossible child who was touched by the Goddess herself. And she always said her life had been full of joy and triumph.

  “Remember who and what you are, Vanx,” she’d whispered.

  By then, only her smile and the light shining in her eyes marked her as his mother. The rest of her was shriveled and discolored. “The humans will envy you for being part Zythian, and the Zythians for being part human. You must rise above them, for what other people think of you matters very little. It’s what you think of yourself that matters.”

  Those words echoed in Vanx’s ears now as he let his eyes focus back on the sea. He took a few moments to blink away the tears brought on by his mother’s memory, and then took the wheel of the Adventurer, just in case she needed a little help.

  There were several types of birds clinging to the watermarked cliff faces that rose up like fortress walls out of the sea. There were smaller birds that would dart out in bunches and larger birds that would swoop through the smaller flocks trying to eat them.

  There were also small sea dactyls that dove deep into schools of bait only to surface with gullets full of floundering prey.

  Vanx was pleased with the way the Adventurer handled the narrow passage, and even the docks. Vanx could feel it drawing from his mind, and wondered if his father had been connected to his ship, Foamfollower, in such a way.

  Vanx also felt that he and Poops were in need of a Zythian healer so, as they neared the dock, he had Moonsy teleport herself all the way to the top of the switchback to fetch one. There was no way Vanx or his puny feeling pup could manage the climb.

  “Sir Earlin made that climb in full plate armor,” Vanx told Chelda.

  The two of them sat with their legs dangling off the side of the ship, near the bow. They were using the rail for an arm rest, Chelda, the top rail, and Vanx the mid rail. Her size was drawing some attention, but it was him the Zythians all wanted to set eyes on.

  “Yah.” Chelda nodded approvingly. They yellow eyes of the dockhands bothered Chelda, Vanx could tell. But for whatever reason, Zeezle’s eyes, or Master Ruuk’s, which were just as yellow and feral as those around them, hadn’t ever seemed to make her uneasy.

  “He wasn’t even winded at the top.” Vanx shook his head in disbelief, but it was the truth. “Do you think Ronzon will return?”

  “He’ll be back,” Chelda snorted. “He watches me and Moonsy through the keyhole. Besides, Gallarael went up there with him.”

  “Want me to get rid of him?” Vanx was nauseous, and Poops couldn’t seem to drink enough water. Vanx still had to clean the turf box and pay the rude Zythians swapping out their empty water barrels for full ones.

  “Nah.” She smiled at him. “His skills would be hard to replace, and he’s familiar with the ship.”

  One of the loaders working another boat called Vanx, “The Sea Witch’s get,” and spat at the dock near them.

  Chelda started to go after him but Vanx stopped her.

  “I am the Sea Witch’s get,” he said to her alone. “My mother sailed with my father for years. Being that she was Zythian, she was strange to the seamen. She was known as the Sea Witch, and only because I was due to be born did she not sail with my father on his final, fatal voyage.”

  “That’s deep,” Chelda said.

  Her poor attempt at wordplay, and the goofy smile on her face made Vanx laugh despite the way he was feeling. She’d heard this all before, and more than once.

  He felt the urge to vomit, and he could feel the beads of icy sweat dripping down his brow. He was hoping Moonsy could find a good healer, but he was never happier to see Master Ruuk appear on the planking, scaring the rude seamen into curses.

  Chapter

  Twenty-Eight

  I cast this wreath into the sea,

  to satisfy Nepton.

  Shelter well into your depths,

  the souls you’ve taken on.

  – a prayer to the god of the sea

  “Moonsy should be along soon, with a friend of mine,” Master Ruuk explained as he came aboard. “We are picking up goods here for the rebuilding. I would call it pure luck that we happened to be here on the same day as you, but with you, Vanx, I think there is no such thing as coincidence.”

  “I don’t know what any of that means, Master.” Vanx had to use the rail as he led the older Zythian magi below deck. “I’m here because I need help deciphering a language I’ve never seen before.”

  “You look like you need more than that my friend,” said Master Ruuk. “The Zythian I sent Moonsy to fetch, is older t
han the both of use combined, and quite knowledgeable.

  “May I have a look?” he asked once they were inside Vanx’s cabin.

  They sat opposite each other in the booth. Master Ruuk opened the book to the page marked by the note Vanx had placed there, but he sat the book down and grabbed Vanx’s hands instead of reading.

  Vanx felt a tingling rush of energy sweep through his system, and he felt Poops, enjoying the same. Ruuk must have cast a healing of some sort on them.

  “I’m not sure what has gotten you, Vanx,” the old Zythian said. “I sense there is something in your blood, but to call it poison would be inaccurate. I’ll ponder it while I look at this.”

  Master Ruuk put the note aside and marveled at the jacaranda tree sketch. “You know these trees hate the salty air blowing directly on them, yet they grow near the sea?”

  Vanx hadn’t known that, and now he understood the trees agony. He should have cracked that seed deeper in the valley, closer to the lake. He wondered if he’d made a terrible mistake and whether the tree killing spiders he launched across the island had killed the entire forest by now.

  “Yes, yes, this language is, well I’m not even sure it is a language. But this,” he grabbed the parchment they’d found by the skeleton inside the dragon’s lazing stone, “this I can read.”

  “What does it say?” Vanx was already feeling ill again, but a rush of excitement had come over him. He saw Chelda sitting on the stairs, listening in, and knew she was as curious as he was.

  “It says, ‘Beware, once bitten, humanity is lost. You’ll become a slave to the Goss, as I have. If you’re reading this, it is too late for you anyway. Kalzafranta Murr.’”

  Poops indicated he’d heard something coming from the satchel. Vanx immediately went for the strange box, they found. The thing that radiated all the power. To his surprise, it was open.

  Carefully, not to drop the gem seeds, he held the box so they wouldn’t spill, and sat it on the table. To his grave disappointment, when he opened the lid, there were no gem seeds inside, only a gold looking-glass that was missing its lens. It had the same unfamiliar markings as the book carved around the handle.

  Vanx met Master Ruuk’s gaze and found the old man’s curiosity was now stoked. Then they heard a click, coming from the box. Vanx couldn’t help but try and figure out what had caused it.

  Vanx couldn’t find what made the sound, but he suddenly felt better, and so did Poops. An idea struck him then, and he closed the lid of the box, with the golden artifact inside.

  As he guessed the box locked closed.

  “Read those last words again, Master Ruuk,” Vanx asked.

  “Kalzafranta Murr,” Master Ruuk said, and the box popped open. Vanx thought about it for a moment and decided that wasn’t the sound he’d heard but, nevertheless, he closed the lid and spoke the words himself. He was pleased to see that the box opened, and he found a parchment and quill, and wrote the words down so he wouldn’t forget them.

  “What is a Goss?” Vanx asked. He did feel better. It was as if he’d never been ill, Poops had already squeezed past Chelda to go lap more water and shit in his turf box.

  “A type of spider I think,” Master Ruuk answered, unaware that his response had chilled Vanx to the core.

  “A very dangerous spider,” came an elderly voice from the deck above. “No, dear,” the old man said as he stepped around Chelda’s huge form. “I think I can, there, yes.” A silver haired, bright, yellow-eyed old Zythian was suddenly in the room.

  Moonsy negotiated Chelda with a lot more grace and entered behind him. And everyone paused, waiting for him to respond.

  Chapter

  Twenty-Nine

  When it comes to dragons,

  you can never know.

  One might let you ride its back,

  while the next might eat you whole.

  – A dragon’s song

  “The Goss is a legendary thing, and if there is a looking glass in that case, then I’d guess you’ve long been bitten.”

  “I told you there was a spider, Vanx.” Chelda started. “But how could you know that,” she asked the newcomer?

  Vanx looked around the others and held up his hand, indicating for Chelda to hold her tongue for the time being. Begrudgingly, she acknowledged him.

  “This is Master Beriinga,” Master Ruuk offered. “Master Beriinga, this is Vanx of Malic, General Gloryvine Moonseed, and Chelda Flar.”

  “To answer your question, Chelda Flar, I’ve read a lot of books, dear.” He eased into the bench seat beside Master Ruuk. Vanx let Moonsy slide in beside him. “I’ve never seen this one, but I have heard about it. It is called the Tome of Arbor, and within its pages are the secrets of the trees.” He carefully turned the book so that it was at the end of the table and all of them, save for Chelda, could see the tome in proper orientation.

  He began thumbing through the pages until he found an image of a poplar tree with web worms growing in its limbs. “Is this what you were seeing?” he asked Moonsy, who must have explained their dilemma on the way here.

  “It is,” Vanx and the elf answered in unison.

  “And they were red marked arachnoids, you saw?” He paused and frowned. “This isn’t good.” The elderly Zythian stopped as if he was pondering something. He then mumbled something Vanx picked up through Poops keen hearing. “Usually caterpillars do this sort of thing, not arachnoids.”

  In the silence, Master Ruuk said, “This explains the sickness you’ve had. If you’ve been bitten I mean.”

  “As to that,” since you are not a human, you will not meet the same dismal end as the man who wrote this.” Master Beriinga indicated the note. “Your mixed blood should defy the full power of the Goss.”

  “But I’m not feeling ill now,” Vanx proclaimed. “Poops feels well, too.”

  The two Zythians sat quiet for long moments. Master Beriinga finally indicated the box. “When did you first open it?” He was asking Vanx, but Master Ruuk answered.

  “Just a few moments before you arrived,” Ruuk told him.

  “And after that is when you started feeling better?” he asked Vanx, who nodded.

  “Then open the case, Vanx of Malic, and we may see if the legend of the Gossamer Lens is only a legend or if it is real.”

  Vanx wasn’t sure about all the cryptic talk, and he didn’t think it would matter, so he complied with the old Zythian.

  “Kalzafranta Murr,” Vanx said, and the lid to the box popped open. To his great surprise, there was a tiny blue spider spinning a web inside the ring of the looking glass.

  “Oh my,” Moonsy exclaimed. “There is your little blue spider, Chel.”

  Vanx watched in shocked awe as the little arachnoid finished spinning a web that spanned the ring, and then moved itself into a tiny spider symbol on the handle that Vanx hadn’t made out before. There was an audible click, and the piece of metal the spider was on flipped around.

  For the briefest moment, Vanx saw that, inside the handle, was where the spider lived. It must have left his person and gone to the handle while he and Ruuk were lost in wonder earlier.

  “It lives in the handle?” Moonsy asked, though it was clear it was a rhetorical question.

  Vanx picked up the looking glass and tried to read the text in the book. He was disappointed that it wasn’t that easy.

  Instead of the words appearing to make sense, the webs began to shimmer and swirl. Vanx was drawn into a vortex that reached into his mind as it beckoned him to look deeper into the web formed lens.

  Vanx eventually saw the inked image of the spider web covered limbs shaking in the breeze. Just as he’d heard the jacaranda tree, he heard the trees with the web wrapped limbs screaming in pain. They were being suffocated by the silky constructions. The leaves unable to feel the sun, and gather rain, to generate the stuff a tree needed to survive.

  Red wormy things wiggled in the webbing as they quickly grew into something else.

  Vanx was transfixed. Especially
when he saw what looked like Moonsy sitting on Chelda’s shoulders, going from tree to tree with a torch, burning away the webs.

  The sound of the jacaranda tree’s pain could be heard in the distance of the vision, and he thumbed back to the image of the newest Heart Tree. In that image, he saw several robed men, chanting and circling the trunk, until the tree disappeared. It re-appeared some distance down slope, near the water’s edge, and the men cheered in triumph.

  The vision ended then, and the webbing in the lens was momentarily blue and glowing, but the thin stuff burned away, leaving the ring as empty as it was when Vanx first opened its case.

  “Did you see?” Vanx asked.

  “No, I saw nothing,” answered Moonsy, who had the best chance of viewing what Vanx had seen.

  The two Zythian’s both shook their heads in the negative. “The seeing is only for the bitten,” the older Zyth said.

  “I need some spell casters, Master Ruuk.” Vanx was suddenly sure of three things. “Enough to teleport a Heart Tree a few hundred feet without killing it, and who can use small controlled fire spells to burn away all the webs.”

  The first thing Vanx knew was, that to save the forest on the invisible island, they would have to go burn the spider webs out of the trees themselves, be it by magic, or by torch, as he’d seen in the vision, but that would be after they relocated the Heart Tree, for if that wasn’t done in the next few days, it might be too late to save it.

  That is where the third thing he now understood, came into play. The whole of the world was coming undone. He could feel it in his blood. The towers had bound it before but, before men possessing far too much power created those, the Heart Trees had held it all together. At the moment, there were only four Heart Trees living. The one at Saint Elm’s Deep, the one in Harthgar, the one they’d quickened on Dragon Isle, and the newly formed jacaranda Heart Tree. And it was suffering terribly due to Vanx’s haste and his lack of knowledge.