166. Encounters After Dark (Patreon)

Despite their best efforts, the night had fallen on them before they reached Leavara’s settlement, but at least they had made it past the boundary of safety.

Tercius carried a torch in one hand and led Lucky by the reins up the dark and uneven terrain. The forested ground was full of sudden indentations and rocks, while the trees grew thicker as they went further up the slope. Thorny bushes grew in abundance everywhere and more than one had drawn blood from his legs.

Leavara and the six children were a bit ahead of him, some of them also carrying torches, while the unconscious Murain was flung over the ram’s back like a sack of flour, still showing no signs of waking.

Tercius hissed as he had to free his left leg from the thorny vines once more. For all that he tried to avoid them, it was as if the plants moved to nick him at every chance they got.

“Offering. Forest pleased,” Kalora said in her broken Empire’s Common, pointing at the ground.

Tercius’ back straightened as he looked at the forest with new eyes. He was not reassured by that at all. Quite the opposite, actually.

According to his Mentor, some of the spirits were created bound to objects or locations, to rock formations, rivers, or even forests. Where that happened, be it minerals, flora, water, or whatever it was that the spirit was born bound to, strange alterations always abounded. Rocks glowed like stars, trees started to grow in the forms of animals or humans, plants uprooted themselves and moved, and water flowed uphill.

Taking Kalora’s words into account, Tercius could only conclude that he was walking through what Mistress Kalina had named a spirit’s domain.

Only specific types of bound spirits had a domain and unlike their unbound cousins they never formed an unaging body upon entering elderhood. From juvenile, through maturity, and finally to elder form, the bound spirits spent their entire life-nourishing and even expanding their domain. As long as a piece of their domain stood in reasonably good conditions and they had at least a small source of Energy to feed on, they would live on and on.

Five torches came their way, finally revealing men with painted faces that carried spears and bows. The leading man had a wolf's pelt around his shoulders and he barked words at Leavara, while looking at Tercius and Lucky. At their narrow-eyed inspection, Tercius straightened and Lucky stamped his foot.

“— heera fa khana so ruk—”

Something, something stranger.

“— pannia karatar fouss pa ro—” Leavara said.

Savior. Guest.

The wolf’s pelt man said something and the men around him laughed and shook their heads.

Tercius’ torchlit eyebrows twitched. He had to learn a little fluency of the local language as soon as possible or he would remain an observer.

Leavara hissed something back and the four men backed away, but the man with the wolf's pelt stood his ground. Leavara stood, just looking at him for a while, and then she snorted, turned around, and walked up to Tercius. "You… can not go in village. Khereshak or not, strangers in the night… forbidden,"

“Oh… I see…” That was… unfortunate. He was sore and tired. Four walls and a ceiling to sleep in would have been excellent right about now.

“But you and I— we stay here,” Leavara said. “Forest safe. Sleep on the ground, safe. Nothing attacks us here. Green Heart protects this forest,”

Tercius looked at the dark surroundings. A slow wind was drifting between the trees of the domain, while the canopy hid the starry skies. Without the torches to provide light, only eternal darkness would remain. Well, it was the only real alternative he had. It would have to do.

“Just show me where I can stay,” Tercius said. “And then go with your people,”

Leavara shook her head, braids of red hair snapping around like whips. “I owe for Murain, for us. You stay, I stay.”

*** *** ***

It shamed Leawarra greatly to lie to a savior, but she had no other alternative. It was true that after nightfall no strangers were allowed entry, but she and the others had met the young man in the light and they all had seen his face and teeth then. They spoke to him and he spoke back, in a way. By all rights, that would have been enough to grant him someone who had saved eight lives of the tribe an entry fit for a guest even after nightfall.

But, savior or not and shaman or not, the young man was clearly a lowlander.

Their people had fallen long ago to the usurpers that came from across the great water. She remembered the stories told to her when she was a girl of a few winters, that the lowlanders didn't even remember the Verdant Heart, the Stalking Cat of the Deserts, or the One with Many Wings, let alone give daily offerings and provide worship that the Great Ones deserve. The usurpers had brought their False Ones with them and forbidden even the names of the Great Ones from even being uttered. The people of the lowlands lived in fear and hunger, forced to obey their oppressors and worship the False Ones.

Despite her word of his deeds and testimony of his humanity, her tribesmen denied the shaman entry.

They took Murrayn and the young ones and took off, reluctantly leaving her with the shaman. What did they think, that she would leave the young man to spend the night alone after all he did for her, for Murrayn, and their trainees? She yearned to know how Murrayn was and be at his side but, lowlander or not, Leawarra would keep her word to the shaman in any way she could. A single mistake and a single surprise were enough for her to go and meet the Verdant Heart and when the day finally came, she would stand before the Great One and proudly say to Her and all the ancestors that she had done right by all who did right by her.

So Leawarra stayed and cleared the ground of larger rocks and fallen branches under the light of torches, even as she cast glances at the young shaman.

The young man was soothingly whispering something to his great beast as he unburdened the cargo from the goat’s back at the spot he cleared.

He… intrigued her.

He was proficient in so many fields despite his young age. The tribes of the Aerie spoke with their hunting birds, while the tribes of the cold and desolate Highlands were rumored to speak to their great shaggy cows, but she had no idea that the lowlanders also spoke to animals. While he used the spear and bow, she also saw knives around his thighs like some of those Metalsmiths were known to carry and use. She saw him use poisons, like the Vipers. He knew how to move and strike like a true hunter, as well. He healed Murrayn and kept him alive, as well or even better than the shaman of her tribe would.

“Leavara,” he called out her name in that slightly strange way as he unfurled some fur on the ground.

She almost replied in her own tongue, before she remembered that he spoke little of it. “Yes?”

“How would you introduce yourself to me in your language?”

It took Leawarra a while to understand what exactly he meant, but she provided him the answer when she did. It was hard, using a foreign tongue that was only used when some traders arrived, but her father had insisted that she learn it and so she did. Another question came her way, this one about how people of the tribes greeted others in their tribe and how to greet those from other tribes. Question after question followed as they worked and Leawarra answered all of them. He repeated her words to himself with an accuracy that surprised her and it always took him barely a try or two to get the sounds completely right.

As the questions and answers kept flowing between them, Leawarra left her clearing and joined him at his. She sat on the furs he unfurled and leaned on the warm stomach of the sleeping goat and they just kept speaking with low voices. He was learning the tongue from her, it became obvious to her, but she did not mind. Everything they spoke of remained crystal clear in a way that she thought of as strange, but she forgot about that as questions of her own started filling more and more of the conversation.

What were the Lowlands like? What did the people there do to survive under the harsh masters that came from across the great water? What were these cities he spoke of? There were truly so many people down there? What were these boats, canals, and ships? They truly had so few forests down there? At each question, Leawarra grew either amazed and curious for more or horrified and worried for the future of her tribe.

He seemed honest about everything he spoke, so she just kept asking. One by one, the torches went out. Only when they were left in complete darkness did the awareness arrive of just how long they spoke to each other.

“I suppose we should get some sleep,” he said. “Do your people have some words they use to wish a person good dreams, or a good night’s sleep, or something like that?”

“May the Verdant Heart keep away the nightmares,”

“May the Verdant Heart keep away the nightmares,” he whispered the words to himself slowly a couple of times. “Nightmares? What do those words mean?”

“Bad dreams that stalk you,”

“Ah. Nightmares. Well then, May the Verdant Heart keep away—” Abruptly, he stopped speaking. When he spoke again, she felt the strained peace of his whisper. “Leawarra. Something is moving up my legs. It feels like a snake. What should I… do?”

“Snake? I don’t— Oh, snakes. There are no snakes here. But—”

Then she felt it too, a light poking at her foot. Unlike her young companion, she felt no fear.

Leawarra smiled into the darkness. “Don’t worry, they won’t harm us. The forest is with us,”

“Oh… oh. I see.” His whispers sounded even more strained than before. “Can you… light a torch? It’s all over my legs and I really don’t want to move right now…”

*** *** ***

In a shower of sparks, the flammable torch caught fire and the perpetrator was revealed in all of its glory.

Tercius swallowed.

Gnarly and covered in dirt, the root that moved over his boots and up his pants was attached to a misshapen mass of vines and roots and moss. Under the flickering torchlight, the strange being looked like something that a small child would create when given a task to make a turtle. Well, it somehow ended up being more of a dog that had four short legs and a shell. The roots that spread out of the center mass of its body spoke of an odd-tentacled cousin to an octopus or a nest of snakes that were all joined at their tails somewhere deep inside that hill of a shell.

The perpetrator was also not alone.

At the side of the tentacled turtle was a short child with a head that was just a bit too big for the rest of the humanoid body. Its face was a blank piece of bark, save for a small hole that was probably meant to imitate a mouth. Flowering vines streamed from behind the bark, flowing down the shoulders of roots in mimicry of hair. In its hands it held a piece of land with a small finger-sized sapling growing out of it.

The third being was a bit harder to spot, as it stood in the darkness behind the blank-faced child and the tentacled turtle, but as Leawarra moved the torch a little the light revealed its short likeness. The moss-covered head had a small beak, two circular indentations for eyes, and two horns at the top of its head, bearing some passing reminiscence to an owl. The short torso crouched on short bent legs, while two pairs of small arms grew at the sides and a massive bushy tail extended behind the creature.

“Don’t worry. This happens often in my tribe.” Leawarra said.

He was not at all reassured by that, considering what she had told him about the ways of her tribe, but he kept still and silent, just observing the roots move. His {Spring of Crystal Thoughts} was a conscious thought away and he had to keep himself from using it. Leawarra stabbed the torch into the ground and went to her knees, words crossing her lips in a whisper.

Behind his back, Tercius felt Lucky stir from sleep. Tercius patted the beast’s side gently, smoothing out the short hairs of the underbelly. He whispered to Lucky that all was well and that he should sleep on, words of assurance which soothed him in turn and kept his mind away from the root-tentacles that covered his legs.

What exactly were these beings? Spirits or just quasi-sentient plants? What were they doing? What did they want? His Energy? The seal on his Well was tightened just over a day ago and it should work perfectly for fourteen days at the very least…

“You must have… Skill, one that grows?” Leawarra asked.

“Ahh… yes. Why?” he whispered.

“You soon understand. Stand, but slowly. The roots won’t hurt you,”

Tercius’ breathing was deep as he gently and slowly shimmied himself from under the living root cover. Standing on his two legs eased a burden off of his shoulders.

“Use the Skill on that,” Leawarra pointed at the hands of the blank-faced child.

“Is this… one of those offerings you spoke of?”

“Like that, but… Umm… Sometimes, the three of them come and seek the shaman to grow things for them. Plants. Trees.” Leawarra explained in a low voice. “Sometimes they choose someone else to do it. It is great blessing and sign that Verdant Heart thinks of you with favor. So go. Grow as big as you can.”

“If you don’t mind me asking, what exactly will happen—”

“No time for words. Just use the Skill on that,”

“Now wait a moment, Leawarra,” he whispered. “I should at least properly understand what is going on, before I—”

“Go!” Leawarra hissed in a low voice and gave him a small but firm push towards the trio of beings.

Tercius stumbled forward, trying to avoid stepping on any of the moving roots. He glared over his shoulder at the painted face of the red-headed woman, but then he turned around somewhat resigned.

Just grow it, Tercius. Just approach three strange beings that appeared in the dark of the night in the middle of a forest and grow a shrub. Some part of him suddenly wondered if he had fallen asleep and he was just experiencing this in a dream. There was that vivid dream back in Spheros that had seemed almost life-like. It wasn’t until he woke in the bed that he realized that he had been sleeping. Maybe this was like that.

He took two steps forward and crouched to the level of the short beings.

“So… I just… grow this?” he asked.

The tentacled turtle moved silently and slowly to the side, revealing a hole below it. The blank-faced child lowered the sapling into the hole, and the owl-head pointed at it with all four rodent-arms.

“I’ll take that as a yes,”

Tercius took a deep breath and threw a few glances at the beings as they moved a little back. His hands encircled the small tree and he reached for {Gardening}.

He kept the skill’s power purposefully low, but still a sense of vitality surged in his hands. His charged palms gently moved over the tree’s tiny leaves and the tree started to shiver. Leawarra brought the torch over, illuminating the hole. The roots grew slowly and dug into the land, affirming the slowly growing trunk. The sapling grew one slow minute at a time, from the length of a finger to the length of a palm.

“I need water,” Tercius said to Leawarra. “Can you bring me—”

One of the roots of the tentacled turtle slowly moved and came to the hole and water started dripping out of it. Tercius glanced at the three beings. Just how much did they understand human speech? Or was it that they saw that the tree needed water to grow more?

He continued using his skill on the sapling and it grew from a palm to two palms. At some point, Leawarra said that the torch was nearing its end and he was left in partial darkness as she went to make another one. As minutes turned to hours and the sapling continued to grow, the shell on the tentacled turtle’s back continued to deflate inwards, turning from a model of a hill to that of a dormant volcano.

Eventually, Tercius stood on his two feet and his grandmother’s lessons on optimal growth came to mind. The sapling had started out a single straight growth that was about a finger long, but as the growing process was slow enough to give ample room for thought and creativity, Tercius started focusing more on growing out offshoots off of the future tree’s trunk. He used one hand to gently pull and bend branches to grow them the way he wanted while the other hand went along the bark and made his changes a little more permanent as the branch fattened from the width of a pinky finger to that of the thumb.

Gardening [44] is now Gardening [45]

The growth slowed and he noticed the signs that he should return to widening the roots and the trunk before he went further, so he did just that.

When the first rays of the sun came through the forest, Tercius stood before a trident-shaped tree whose top reached almost the middle of his torso. The trunk was suitably wide and the base of a good tree was established. Tercius had gotten himself a bit carried away in his work, but he had no plans of growing it any further. {Gardening} was at a high enough level that his mana expenditure was small and he had limited himself to never using the full power of his skill, but even with the regeneration replenishing his reserves throughout the hours his mana pool was not even at a third of his current Sealed capacity. He was tired and he needed to get some sleep. Besides all that, the tree was clearly in desperate need of some proper sunlight and not the replacement that his skill provided.

“All done,” he said.

The child, turtle, and owl moved slowly and silently closer to the tree, using hands, paws, or tentacles to touch the bark gently.

As one, all three turned to him.

“Kneel,” Leawarra whispered.

Tercius looked at Leawarra and saw the urgency in her saggy eyes. He kneeled. The three short beings encircled him slowly, each laying a limb or a tentacle on him. A groan of ecstasy escaped him as life itself filled his limbs and banished away all signs of soreness and tiredness.

In seconds, he felt more awake than ever.

*********************

AN: The tests ruled out Covid so it was likely the flu. It's mostly past me now, and I only have a runny nose and a rather nasty cough to show for it. 

There will be another post after this, to explain some things.