by J. T. Wright
A closer look would reveal that those dirt paths weren’t completely random. They all met at the center of the garden, at the foot of two massive trees that grew together seamlessly. They weren’t the largest trees in the garden, but they were the most impressive.
Trent didn’t know that it was possible to cause trees to grow into an image, but someone had. Their roots formed her feet, their leaves an elegant gown stretching to her ankles. Their trunks were her body, and there was no denying the beauty of the woman's features.
At first, the branches that made up her face looked gentle and serene. It was the face of a loving mother, surveying the antics of her children. Then it wasn’t. Was it the wind that caused the branches to twist into solemn displeasure? There was nothing matronly about the wooden statue now. That was the face of a vengeful queen. Was Tersa seeing this?
No, probably not. Trent was dropped unceremoniously from Cullen’s shoulder. The last thought before self-pity overwhelmed him was, why is Tersa upside down hanging from those vines? Then he coughed and moaned and didn’t think much at all.
Tersa wasn’t of any mind to appreciate her surroundings. Thick green vines snaked around her body, and before she could fight her way loose, they bound her legs together and her arms to her sides. She screamed as she was hoisted into the air to dangle from a nearby tree like an out of season fruit.
And what was the Sergeant doing while she was assaulted by this kidnapping tree? The old bastard had run away and was kneeling. The Sergeant didn’t kneel! Well, maybe to the Duke, but not to anyone else!
“Sergeant! Terah’s wrinkled genitals! Help!” Tersa’s opened mouth was filled with a vine that acted as a gag. She bit down angrily on the offending plant, but the vine didn’t give. It could have been made from iron for all the good her teeth did.
Beside Cullen, Trent, hearing Tersa’s shouts, tried to struggle to his feet. Cullen’s hand clamped on his shoulder and forced the boy to kneel. Startled, Trent started to object. Whatever he might have said was lost when he looked to the Sergeant.
Cullen’s jaw was tight, and his face pained. He wanted to take up Peacemaker and lay waste to this garden, but he didn’t. He wanted to call fire and rend earth, but he restrained himself. Some things he couldn’t fight. Sometimes Recruits drew trouble to themselves that Cullen couldn’t pull them out of. It wasn’t a lesson he liked seeing his trainees learn, but he had no power to stop Tersa from experiencing it this time.
Who had taught the stupid child those ridiculous curses? He should have warned her. There were gods you could curse by, and in the Trials where the gods had no sway, you could say whatever you pleased. But one thing you should never do is swear by Terah, a major nature goddess, while standing in her temple.
Cullen had said to be respectful. He should have been clearer. But even if he had warned Tersa explicitly, he knew she wouldn’t have listened. A Brute with a highly leveled Enraging Aura reacted under stress. They didn’t think things through. Still, he should have made sure she knew that in this place, meaningless words had power.
Trent ran through his options. Tersa was being held prisoner by a tree. He didn’t have any powerful weapons or Spells, but with Heart of the Inferno, Spirit Flame, and Fire Manipulation, he thought he could make the plant release her. And Cullen, Cullen’s favorite weapon was a humongous axe! Was there a better weapon for teaching trees proper manners?
The Sergeant’s inactivity baffled Trent. The vines kept Tersa from fighting back, but it was Cullen’s hand that pressed Trent to the earth and prevented her rescue. His mouth opened to demand an explanation. Then it shut with a click, and Trent swallowed his anger and nearly his tongue in astonishment.
That majestic statue of the woman at the center of the garden was moving. No illusion created by the wind but actual movement. The statue was alive! Its feet rose from the earth and stepped forward. Absently, Trent noticed that the ground it left behind was undisturbed. The earth that should have been sundered by thick roots tearing themselves free was unbroken.
Freed from its dirt bonds, the statue moved forward. Trent expected to see flowers trampled beneath it and bushes crushed by its weight. He was disappointed. The fifty-foot figure of a woman floated above the ground, flowing regally towards Tersa. In her shadow, the plants blossomed and bent, paying homage while basking in her presence.
The statue shrank as it drifted, and by the time it stood before the tied and gagged Tersa, it had been replaced. No statue stood there with anger flashing through its false eyes, but a tall woman of flesh and blood. The green gown of leaves had become one of cloth, which clung to her body and exposed bare shoulders and feet.
Her hair swept over those shoulders and framed her face. Skin that had once been bark was now a golden hue, and her hair and eyes were the dark brown of healthy wet soil. Her full lips were pressed tightly with displeasure, and she looked down her long nose at Tersa as if the girl was a rotting corpse that sullied the garden.
“You dare blaspheme in this place? In my temple!” The woman’s voice, low and strained, filled the garden. The trees shook from the force of her fury. “You dare! Pitiful worm, you aren’t fit to fertilize the soil of this place, yet you allow such filth to drip from your tongue!”
Tersa, unable to speak or move, felt each word the woman, the goddess, spoke as a physical blow. She whimpered and wiggled, trying to free herself, trying to summon her defiance. It was useless. The presence of the being that confronted the hapless girl smothered her. It was hard to breathe much less fight back.
Terah, Goddess of Fields and Forest, directed her gaze to Cullen. “You, Soldier! Servant of the Dross Clan, you brought this ignorant thing before me! You have been here before; you know where you stand! How will you answer for her offense?!”
“Bow your head, Runt,” Cullen spoke out of the corner of his mouth to Trent. Contrary to his own advice, when Cullen responded to Terah, his chin lifted, and his eyes hardened. He knelt out of respect, but there was no subservience in him.
“I beg understanding, Divine One,” Cullen spoke slowly and clearly. “The fault lies with me. If there is a price to pay, I will pay it. The girl… she is innocent. You can see how her Class and Skills affect her. There is no excuse, but no disrespect was intended.”
“No disrespect?” The goddess's voice was scornful. “I heard nothing but disrespect!”
The garden grew silent. Cullen offered no further comment, and beside him, Trent was busily studying the grass he knelt on. He jerked when the ground he was staring at was suddenly occupied by two slender and graceful feet. He hadn’t heard the rustle of movement or sensed the goddess’s approach. His hands clenched, and he felt the urge to clear his throat.
“What is this?” Terah’s voice was gentle and smooth now. Her question played about Trent’s ears. Gone was the fury of the landslide, replaced by the babbling of a brook in spring. A hand reached down and lifted Trent’s chin. Two fingers pushed back his mask and lowered his cowl.
Trent resisted the impulse to shut his eyes. He found himself looking up at the matronly woman the statue had originally represented. Soft eyes, a teasing smile, hair that danced in a breeze that Trent couldn’t feel. Terah was bewitching, mysterious. She had loomed over Tersa, tall and slender, but before Trent, the goddess was a curvy woman whose head wouldn’t reach Cullen’s shoulder.
Her hand cupped Trent’s cheek as she spoke with wonderment. “Has this come again? The Al’rashians were always Mother’s favorites, the violet-eyed most of all. Has she restored them?”
Trent relaxed under the goddess’s attention. This wasn’t so bad, at least she wasn’t angry anymore. Cullen, older and far more experienced, stiffened. Terah wasn’t known for her forgiving ways. If she had forgotten about Tersa for the moment, it didn’t mean things had turned in their favor.
“A Bond!” Terah sounded delighted. “But one that is almost broken. Intentionally, perhaps. Bond or not, you are certainly a balancer, boy. Do you bring Change?”
&
nbsp; Trent’s ears caught an odd emphasis on the word change. He started to question it, but before he could, Terah reached up and stroked his forehead with her thumb. Where her skin touched his, it tingled. Not unpleasantly, but unlike anything he had felt before. When the sensation passed, Terah’s face darkened, and all thought fled Trent’s mind.
Visibly calming herself, the goddess looked to Cullen. “You brought these children to challenge the Trial of Clarity, servant of the Dross Clan?” Cullen nodded almost imperceptibly. There were things at play here that were beyond him, and he didn’t like that.
Terah snapped her fingers, and behind her, Tersa was released. She fell to the ground with a yelp. The Recruit wasn’t freed for long. Tersa found herself floating through the air. Her stomach protested. She was dizzy, and the sudden movement aggravated that condition.
When the force that carried her deposited her next to Cullen, she was compelled to kneel. Finding herself unable to stand, Tersa opened her mouth to snarl. Her jaw snapped shut when Cullen’s glare shot towards her.
Terah’s thumb was extended again, this time towards Tersa. The Recruit wasn’t favored with gentle caresses. Instead, a sharp thumbnail carved a small cross between her eyebrows. A drop of blood rolled down Tersa’s nose, and then the wound sealed itself.
“The Trial will be good for you, for both of you, I think.” the goddess smirked at Tersa then smiled fondly at Trent. “My mark will benefit your friend. It is only fair for you to receive a blessing as well.”
A bright golden orb appeared in Terah’s hand, and she held it out to Trent. He didn’t think twice and swiftly reached out to take it, an action which greatly pleased the goddess. Terah’s pleasure faded when Trent’s hand took the orb and the golden sheen melted away to reveal a brown Skill Stone.
Trent didn’t notice the flicker of emotions on Terah’s face. His attention was on the Skill Stone as he Appraised it. He chewed his lip when he saw the results. It wasn’t a Skill but an Ability, Earth Manipulation. It appeared to be a lot like Fire Manipulation but, obviously, for Earth.
It would enhance his Earth Spells and allow him to directly control the Element itself. The problem was Trent didn’t know any Earth Spells, and at low Levels, his control over the Element would be slight. He might be able to dig a hole with it, a small hole.
Trent was dubious about the Ability. However, he didn’t see any harm in learning it. Glancing up and seeing Terah’s impatience, he realized, even if it was harmful, refusing the goddess’s gift might be far worse. The Stone crumbled away as the Ability added itself to Trent’s Status.
“Thank you, ah, Divine One,” Trent murmured. A strange expression had flashed through Terah’s eyes. Trent thought it might have been caused by his hesitation.
“I look forward to seeing you develop, Child of Al’rashia. We will meet again.”
The goddess was gone. Her voice drifted through the garden, stirring the fallen leaves. Trent felt a weight lift, one he hadn’t realized was pressing down on him. Strangely, the statue of Terah wasn’t restored. The dirt paths of the garden now met at an empty patch of grass.
“Recruit Tersa,” Cullen said through gritted teeth, “you will learn to mind your tongue, or I will…”
Cullen stood. It was useless to threaten or yell. Tersa would learn from this, or an angry god would snatch her up and teach her respect, probably killing her in the process. The Sergeant started to spit, then, remembering where he was, choked and swallowed.
“Follow me. Keep your mouths shut. The sooner we are done here, the better.”
**********
There were two gardens in this remote forest. The first had been discovered by the Dross Clan as they fled the fall of Al’rashia nearly a thousand years ago. The second, the temple to Terah, had been planted to mask the presence of the first. It wasn’t entirely appropriate as that first garden was a Trial, and the gods had no say in those places, but the actions of the Dross Clan had pleased the nature goddess.
This temple, which was rarely entered, was one of Terah’s favorites. Humble as the temple was, it served as a gateway to a unique Trial. That fact appealed to the goddess’s vanity, and she often looked in on it.
Her presence concealed, Terah watched as Cullen hustled his charges towards the back of the garden where the Trial awaited. She had many responsibilities that needed tending to, but as long as these three lingered here, she would stay. The young Al’rashian fascinated her, and there was the chance that the foul-mouthed beast of a girl would need further reminders of what was allowed.
Besides all that, another guest had stepped into her domain. As soon as Cullen and his trainees disappeared in the distance, booted feet slipped into the garden. Terah bared her teeth warily as a figure appeared. If the young Al’rashian Survivalist was a welcome diversion, the older man, the man who was much older than he seemed, was a dangerous pest.
“You tried to mark the boy,” Ranar Wygon spoke to the empty garden, his voice flat. “Twice.”
“Mind yourself, Master of the Dusk Tower!” Terah appeared in a swirl of leaves. The matron was gone, and the tall, slender queen replaced her. “I am no minor godling or Forest Sprite to be chastised by you.”
Ranar bowed his head slightly in greeting, his fingers drumming against the hilt of his sword. Terah was a major force in the World, worshiped in many lands. Gods could die, but Ranar was no threat to this goddess, no more than she was to him.
“The boy is not for your purposes, you know that.” Ranar didn’t want to set himself against Terah. There was no cause to make her an enemy. She had failed to mark Trent. Ranar had another reason for coming here.
“He interests me.” Ranar’s mild tone eased the tension in Terah’s shoulders. The goddess had never approved of the Change that put mortals on equal footing with her kind. Confronting a Paragon, an Awakened whose Level had risen beyond 1000, even one from a friendly race, was distasteful to her. “Do you know what he is?”
Ranar ignored the question. His eyes took in the details of the temple he found himself in. The mark of Al’rashian construction was apparent. His people didn’t worship a specific god, instead, they were respectful of all of them. Each Clan offered that respect in their own way. The small aspects of this temple revealed the creator’s Clan to Ranar.
“The Dross Clan. Do you know how they ended up here? Or why they added the Al to the name?” The gods liked to pretend at omniscience, but Ranar knew better. He doubted Terah had the information he wanted but asked anyway.
Terah’s face was composed, but inwardly she seethed. He disregarded her query and posed one of his own. It was infuriating. Worse, she was going to answer. The Master of the Dusk Tower was not someone it was wise to provoke casually.
“How? They fled the fall of Al’rashia and settled here ages ago.” Terah waved a hand, gesturing at the surroundings, “Building this place was one of the first things they did. The Trial within is one of the reasons they chose to build nearby. As for the Al, that came later, and can be blamed on the Verrens.”
Ranar’s nose twitched as if he had smelled something unpleasant. Children of mixed heritage would add Al to their names thinking to honor their ancestors. Ranar wouldn’t have thought the descendants of the Dross Clan would be so misguided. The influence of the Verrens explained much. There were always snakes hidden in that patch of grass.
“Tell me.” Ranar was too long separated from the world. Paragon or not, there were still protocols to addressing the gods.
“Make no demands of me, Ranar Wygon!” Terah’s hiss bore the strength of an earthquake. Her hair blew backward as her eyes gleamed angrily. “You will tell me, why are you here? Who watches the Dusk Tower in your absence!?”
Ranar sighed. It was a simple mistake. Tersa’s slip of the tongue could be blamed on the girl’s ignorance, but his had no excuse. If he wasn’t careful, he would walk out of this temple empty-handed. Terah’s presence was an opportunity. One he wasn’t inclined to waste.
“I'm
here because Al’rashia is fallen, dead. Here, there is a possibility that she may be restored. The Dusk Tower, that, I carry with me.” He replied simply.
“The Tower isn’t a bauble Al’rashian! You cannot…” Terah’s anger drained out of her and was replaced by astonishment with a touch of grudging respect.
“The Tower is no more a toy than one marked by the Mother or the Keeper,” Ranar cut the goddess off. Not normally a wise thing to do, but Terah’s anxious glance skyward said his risk had been worth it. He had reminded the deity that she had those she answered to and that she took her own risks with her meddling.
“Peace, Goddess, we are not at odds. We may be allies,” Ranar said hurriedly.
Terah didn’t see the sign in the sky that she looked for, and her distrustful eyes fell back to Ranar “What do you want?”
“I need to borrow,” Ranar’s lips spread into a wide smile as he thought of the Varren Clan, “a snake. I can’t guarantee I'll return it in one piece.”
Chapter 11
Following the dirt pathways deep into the garden temple, Cullen set a brisk pace. It was a silent trip. Tersa was coming to terms with what had happened. Her hand touched her forehead from time to time. The cut had healed but she could still feel it. She didn’t know what the goddess had done to her, but she didn’t think it was a blessing. Worst of all Tersa was unable to rage about it. Every curse that came to her mind mentioned Terah’s person in an unflattering way. Tersa shuddered and repressed the words that threatened to spill from her lips.
It didn’t take long for the three to arrive at what was presumably the back of the temple. A twenty-foot-tall hedge rose up to block their path. Cullen halted in front of a wooden gate that broke the hedge’s expanse. It was small, the Sergeant had had to duck when he entered this Trial himself, but that wouldn’t be a problem for Tersa or Trent.