Something wet slithered across the back of her neck. “Plaaay.”
“No!” Tarah shouted. She swung back her arm and threw the staff as hard as she could. It bounced and clattered across several roots before falling between two of them and disappearing from view.
Shuddering, she pulled her papa’s bow off of her shoulder and clutched it tight to her chest. Her father’s memories were gone from its surface, but he had made it with his own hands. This was something real that could bring her comfort.
“Why did you do that?” asked Grampa Rolf. He looked like his healthy self again and stood close to the place where she had thrown the staff. He was peering down between the roots. “Now you’ll just have to go and pick me up again.”
“No,” Tarah said. “Not if you’re gonna torture me like that, Esmine. I’ll just leave you there.”
“To be found by elves? These old wrinkly ones?” Rolf shook his head. “Besides, you wouldn’t leave me here. We’re best friends. You told me so.”
“A best friend wouldn’t do what you were just doing to me,” Tarah said. She turned to walk away.
“I won’t let you leave,” he said.
She put the bow back over her shoulder and started walking.
“Have you forgotten my range?” Now Rolf was in front of her, walking backwards, keeping her pace while facing her. “I won’t let you get far. My illusions will keep you from getting away.”
“You can’t stop me,” she snapped. “I’m Tarah Woodblade. I know how to find my way anywhere. I’ve traveled mountains. I’ve travelled forests. I’ve travelled maze-like deserts that-.”
“And we’re back where we started,” he replied smugly.
Tarah realized that he was right. Once again she was standing across from that elf garden. Somehow he had turned her around. When had that happened?
He smiled at her confusion and pointed into the roots below. “Now go pick me up.”
“I won’t. I don’t care how long I have to keep walking in circles I will eventually figure it out and I will get away,” she promised. “You know I will.”
His eyes narrowed at her. “I have other ways of forcing you to do what I want. I could stop making you invisible for instance. I could make it appear like you were jumping up and down and shouting insults at every elf around us.”
She swallowed. “You wouldn’t.”
“And I could make you appear to be naked as you did it,” he added.
Tarah’s eyes bulged as she tried to think of a way out of the situation. Finally she forced herself to calm down. “This is crazy, Esmine. Why are we even having this conversation? You’re right. I can’t throw you away now. You are my friend and I went through too much to try to help you.”
Rolf smiled. “I knew you would listen.”
“I will not pick you back up without some conditions, though,” she added. “You need to stop appearing to me as my papa or grampa. I just can’t handle that anymore. Not after today.”
Esmine didn’t answer, so she continued. “In turn, I will try to be more accommodating to you and find time to play with you. But I can’t have you using your magic to fool me. I can’t live that way.”
Rolf cocked his head at her for a moment, then raised a finger. “Counter offer.” Suddenly he was gone. In his place was Tarah’s Mother. “I will use this form instead. What do you think, sweetheart?” Her voice had the beautiful alto tone that Tarah remembered. “She died when you were so young. Your memories of her are old and faded, but I can fill in the gaps with my own personality all the better.”
Tarah turned and ran, choking back tears. It was too much. She had to get away. It was the only way she could stay sane.
Knowing that Esmine would try to turn her around again, Tarah jumped down from the root she was on. She landed on a path below and headed down it, focusing all of her knowledge and training on escape.
Tarah moved from root-to-root as best as she could, jumping and climbing. She constantly glanced upward, trying to keep several reference points in mind. The wide leaves of the Jharro trees mostly hid the sun, but she was fairly confident that she was heading in the right direction.
To her relief Esmine didn’t call out after her. No phantoms appeared to torment her and after the first few panicked minutes, Tarah began to think things through. She slowed down. Was she really leaving Esmine and the staff Rolf had given her behind?
Why had this happened? Sure, Esmine had been acting more stubborn lately, but everything had been fine earlier that day. The rogue horse’s suggestion of escape had seemed like an exciting diversion. What had changed since then?
What Tarah really wanted right then was Djeri. The dwarf would hold her and she could explain everything that happened. He would listen and use that ability he had to see through things and he would tell her exactly what to do.
Tarah stopped walking and finally let the tears stream down her face. She sat down on the root and put her head in her hands. Is this what she had become? After everything she had been through in the last few months, Tarah Woodblade was losing control and blubbering? Pining after a man? She sighed and put her hand down beside her, intending to climb to her feet.
Her palm sunk into the wood.
Suddenly, everything fell away. The roots, the air, even her body disappeared until Tarah’s thoughts were all alone in a soft pink haze. She felt an enormous sense of pressure. It was as if a mountain surrounded her, the mass of it crushing her mind. Then she understood. It wasn’t a mountain. It was a tree.
Her magic had connected to the spirit of this Jharro tree and it was trying to show her the enormity of its history. Tarah had fractions of a second before the sheer weight of it destroyed her. She did the only thing she could. She opened herself up to it.
Centuries of information poured through her mind so fast that she couldn’t retain it all. She could only catch glimpses. Tarah saw the tree from its start as a seedling. It was planted by a man with a beard and kind eyes. Then it was a sapling and dark-skinned elves played around it. It became much larger and was cared for by elves. They moved in and out of its flesh and made small requests of it. Eventually it was fully grown. Its roots intertwined with the others, and it was mature enough to take part of the grove’s burden.
The tree’s voice then rose to join the others. The Jharro trees generated a chorus of magical energy, something Tarah couldn’t quite comprehend. But the song was beautiful and it shone forth like a beacon of sound and light and life that formed a barrier, keeping out something dark and horrible; a sickness of some kind that would overcome the known lands.
The trees remained so focused on their task that they were completely defenseless. They depended on the elves that cared for them and now the humans that helped the elves. There had been many wars over the years. Some of the trees had been destroyed and others had lost their voice. Currently, the song of the trees was barely strong enough to keep the barrier in place. There was hope, though, because a new orchard of saplings were growing to take their place.
The weight of the tree’s memories faded until Tarah’s thoughts once again floated in a soft pink haze. Then the tree spoke to her. It didn’t use words, but spoke more in emotion. It asked her a question. Would she join the ranks of the tree’s caretakers? Would she protect the tree so that it could continue to protect the world?
The question hung in Tarah’s mind, but she didn’t answer right away. Not because it was a difficult decision. Now that she understood the importance of the trees, there was no greater calling that she could think of. The reason she hesitated was because she had other tasks to complete. And what of Djeri? Would she have to stay in Malaroo if she said yes?
Tarah asked the tree these questions, but received no reply. The tree couldn’t comprehend such small and petty thoughts. Its gaze was eternal. It simply repeated the question and Tarah said, Yes.
There was a warm feeling of acceptance from the tree and its thoughts began to fade from Tarah’s mind. Suddenly there was
a great lurch. The pink blinked away to black.
Tarah cried out in pain as her mind was forcibly torn from the tree. Her arm was wrenched to the side. Tarah opened her eyes and looked into a face that was all at once dark and beautiful and angry. It was a female elf. The lower half of her body was submerged in the wood of the tree and she had Tarah’s wrist clenched in one powerful hand.
Chapter Eleven
“Intruder,” the dark-skinned elf said in an oddly accented voice. “Rapist!”
“R-rape?” Tarah was still sitting cross-legged on the root and tried to pull her hand out of the elf’s grip, but didn’t have the leverage. “I did nothing like that.”
“You brought evil into this grove.” The elf snarled and clicked a few words that Tarah didn’t understand and added, “You used filthy magic to touch the soul of my tree!”
“I didn’t use my magic on purpose,” Tarah replied. “It just happened.”
The elf slowly rose out of the wood until she was standing on top of the root, her body encased in living Jharro armor. She pulled Tarah to her knees and raised her other arm, pointing a staff at Tarah’s face. The end of the staff narrowed, forming a spear-like tip. “The penalty for such a violation is death!”
“Nope,” Tarah said. She twisted her body, yanking the elf forward. The elf’s weapon gouged her armor, but Tarah’s left fist caught the elf woman square in the nose.
The elf’s head snapped back. She gasped in surprise. Tarah tore her hand out of the elf’s grip and ran. She knew an escape was unlikely. The elf knew the grove and Tarah had seen that she could control the roots at will. Her only hope was that Esmine was still trying to protect her.
Tarah put all she had into the run, hoping that her longer legs would give her an advantage but she heard the elf woman click angrily close behind her. Blast, she was fast. Then Tarah felt the root pathway shift under her feet. Grimacing, she jumped off of the root, throwing herself over a wide gap towards the next closest root. Her arms were outstretched as she struck the root with her chest. She clutched at the smooth surface, hoping not to slide off.
Her hand sank into the wood and she realized that this root was from a different tree.
“No!” she cried, but it was too late. Everything fell away once more. She was floating in a pink haze, the weight of thousands of years of memories weighing on her. She had no choice but to open herself up to it once again, but this tree was not as gentle as the first.
The memories flooded through her in a torrent and Tarah feared that she might lose herself. This tree was older. It had been there in the beginning of the grove, before the trees had a purpose. Then the sickness had ravaged the world. The messenger had come and had shown the trees how to sing.
This tree had seen war and been damaged by it. This tree had lost many of its brethren. It was tired. Yet still it sang on, encouraged by the growth of new saplings. Sometime soon it would be able to rest.
The memories stopped, leaving Tarah’s mind battered and weak. Then it asked her the same question as the previous tree, though it asked in a slightly bored fashion. Would she, the human child, protect it from the ravages of mortal men and beasts so that it could continue its endless duty to protect the world?
Uh, I already said yes to the other tree, Tarah replied.
It asked again. In these, the final days of its weary existence, would she use her puny powers to keep its roots free from the fires and axes of mortal kind?
Tarah didn’t understand the etiquette with making promises of this sort. She also didn’t particularly like this one’s attitude, but she supposed that after a life that long it deserved some concessions. Yes.
The tree accepted her promise and Tarah felt a warmth settle over her. Then, once again, she was torn free of her connection from the tree. This time it was caused by the foot of the furious elf woman as she kicked Tarah in the face, knocking her free from the root she was so desperately holding onto.
Tarah fell, disoriented as she rebounded off of two more roots before landing square on her back. The impact of the landing knocked the wind out of her. Several arrows, jarred loose from her quiver along the way, clattered around her.
She was lying on a long, but narrow pathway between two massive roots. The elf hadn’t waited. She was already jumping down after her.
Tarah rolled to her knees and tried to stand, but the combination of lack of air and mental fatigue slowed her down. The elf woman landed in front of her and sent a stiff kick into Tarah’s chest, launching her back to the ground.
“You defile another tree?” snarled the elf, looking all the more furious because of the blood that dripped from her nose. She drew back her staff preparing to launch it like a spear.
Tarah gasped, and raised her arms defensively, fairly sure that her armor wouldn’t stop a direct strike from that close. “No defiling! I just promised the tree I would-!”
The elf threw.
Tarah closed her eyes. She heard the meaty thud as the spear struck, but felt no pain. A moment went by and she opened one eye to see that a section of the root next to her had transformed, extending to form a protective shield over her body. The pointed tip of the Jharro weapon had pierced the wood, but had been stopped an inch from her chest.
The elf peered around the edge of the shield. “What is this? You corrupt even one of the eldest?”
Tarah realized that the root had belonged to the tree she had just finished talking to. “No!” she said, scrambling backwards. She climbed to her feet. “He did that on his own. I was trying to tell you before you just tried to kill me. I promised this cranky old tree I would protect him. I guess he was protecting me back.”
The elf wrenched her spear out of the wood. She shifted her grip to the bottom of the weapon and the length of the shaft thinned, forming a narrow blade. Her grip was strange, but she wielded it like a longsword. “You have no right.”
“Stop, Tolynn!”
The voice was male and carried a note of command so powerful that Tarah flinched. The elf woman bared her teeth and let out a series of clicks and whistles that Tarah did not understand, but she did not continue her attack. The wall of roots that surrounded them shifted, lifting up and forming a tunnel-like path. Tarah looked inside and saw a man approaching.
He didn’t look all that impressive. He had short brown hair and a neatly trimmed beard and wore a set of worn traveler’s clothes. In his hands he carried Esmine’s staff.
Walking behind him was a beast that made Tarah’s jaw drop. It looked like an enormous house cat the size of a horse. It had tan and orange stripes in its fur and large blue eyes. As it came a bit closer it yawned, then laid down. It raised one of its rear legs to lick itself and Tarah took a step backwards. This was no house cat. It had six legs and curving up behind it was the long chitinous tail of a scorpion.
“Why do you stop me, John?” asked the elf woman. She was still holding that sword like she wanted to cut Tarah in two.
“Because it’s unseemly. That’s why,” he said with a fatherly tone. The man planted Esmine’s staff in front of him and leaned forward. “Murdering some innocent child just because she stumbled into your back yard? Tsk-tsk. Tolynn, that’s beneath you.”
The commotion had not gone unnoticed. Tarah saw dozens of the ancient dark-skinned elves looking down at them from roots all around. A few of them were watching the scene with humorous expressions, but most of them looked almost as dour as Tolynn.
“Innocent?” Tolynn replied. She let go of the sword handle with one hand to point at Tarah. “She brings a great evil into this place! Then she defiles the trees! A-and she struck me in the nose.”
“I didn’t defile anything,” Tarah protested, tearing her gaze away from the cat-thing so that she could face the elf. “Or at least, if I did, I didn’t know anything was being defiled. I was innocent, like he said. As for striking you in the face . . . well, you were gonna kill me. Your face kinda deserved it.”
“No innocent carries an evil like that!”
Tolynn argued. “I can feel it. It makes my skin itch!”
“Esmine ain’t evil. Or at least, I don’t think so,” Tarah said. “She’s just a bit wild.”
She wondered why the rogue horse was being so quiet. There was no papa or Grampa Rolf standing around making snarky remarks. Tarah hadn’t seen so much as a hint of illusion from Esmine in a while.
“Perhaps some introductions would help smooth things over,” the man said. “Tarah Woodblade.” He approached her and lifted the staff in his hands. “This is the second time I’ve had to retrieve your staff for you. You should be more careful.”
Tarah’s eyes widened. “You’re the Prophet.”
Djeri had told her how the Prophet had retrieved her staff from the river the day she met Esmine. He didn’t look anything like the legendary figure she had expected. He was just so . . . plain.
The Troll King (The Bowl of Souls Book 9) Page 20