Eternal Forest: Savage Rising (7 page)

             
The impact from Feneris knocked the air from Azalea’s lungs. She rolled onto her side and flattened out. With the limited visibility, her best defense was to be as hard to find as possible. She brought her arms in under her chest, allowing her hands—by luck—to find one of Feneris’ swords sunk into the mud. Finding the weapon gave her a small glimmer of hope. Her hands quickly felt up the length of it to the hilt, which she grasped firmly.

             
Feneris rose to his feet again, wobbly and dizzy from exhaustion. He had no idea where his swords were, but there was no point in looking for them. He would have to kill the girl with his bare hands, something he felt more than capable of accomplishing. His eyes scanned the ground for her, finally discovering her lying on her stomach in the mud. She didn’t look conscious. This would be easier than he thought.

             
Overconfident, he made slow, clumsy steps towards her. “I’ve had just about enough of you,” he said as he stood over her. He lifted his right foot into the air, intending to crush her skull with his heavy boot. “Farewell, sorceress,” he said.

             
Before the boot fell, Azalea lifted off the ground and made a low sweep with the sword. Its edge sliced across Feneris’ left ankle, sending a spray of blood into the mud. Feneris yelled out in pain as he fell onto his back.

Azalea shot up to her feet as Feneris attempted to sit back up. He reached towards her with one hand while the other grasped at his injury. Fueled by rage and desperation, Azalea thrust the tip of the blade though Feneris’ chest. It passed cleanly through his body and into the muddy ground behind him. The Lord’s Hand opened his eyes wide in terror and disbelief. His hands trembled out in front of him for a brief moment and then fell limp to his side. His body slid down the length of the blade to the ground and was still.

              With Viyana either dead or unconscious, Zehlyr turned his attention to Sansehr. The Lord of Meadowgold was still engaging Heeska in battle with furious swings of his broadsword. Each mighty swipe of the blade seemed strong enough to fell a tree. The balisekt scrambled from side to side, letting the blows sail over his head or crash into the mud. Sansehr’s fury raged stronger than the storm.

             
Tired of being on the defensive, Heeska spun his body around as Sansehr took another mighty swing. The end of his tail snapped like a whip against Sansehr’s hand, sending the blade from his grasp and landing in the earth like a flagpole. Being disarmed didn’t seem to faze him. Sansehr was far larger than the average human and more than formidable enough with his bare hands. He threw his arms out to his sides, flexing his biceps as he taunted Heeska with a loud battle cry.

             
Heeska answered the human’s display of strength with a loud screech. He dropped to all fours, buried his claws in the mud, and reared up his tail. At once, the two charged towards one another. Heeska tried to smash his claws together around Sansehr’s head, but the human’s massive hands caught his scaly wrists and held them back. They struggled against one another. Heeska snapped his jaws at Sansehr’s face, but it was just beyond his reach.

             
Abandoning the tactic, Heeska began shifting his weight to the side. Sansehr moved in unison, keeping his grip on the balisekt’s arms, but it wasn’t the arms that gave him reason to worry. Once Heeska was turned enough, his tail whipped out and struck Sansehr in the ankle. The Lord of Meadowgold toppled over into the mud, but used the momentum to his advantage. Keeping a hold of the balisekt’s wrists, he pulled Heeska down with him. Once on his back, he kicked up with his powerful legs, striking Heeska directly in the chest.

             
Heeska was flung into the air. Sailing feet over head, he crashed down into a deep puddle behind where Sansehr lay. Sansehr scrambled back to his feet. With a head start on the balisekt, he dove for his sword. The blade was still lodged in the wet earth, only a few paces from where he stood. He reached for it quickly, but it was soon jerked away by a small, fair-skinned hand. Finding nothing but raindrops to grasp, Sansehr’s forward momentum proved too great to halt. He fell again on his knees as Azalea dragged the blade away.

             
Sansehr’s sword was too heavy for Azalea to lift. She walked backwards swiftly, dragging it through the mud. Sansehr rose to his feet again and charged towards her. He reached out to grasp the girl by the throat, but was blindsided by Heeska from the right. The two fell into the mud again, where they resumed their battle of strength.

             
With the Lord of Meadowgold thoroughly distracted, Zehlyr raced over to Viyana’s body. Watching these two mighty creatures do battle had reminded him just how defenseless he was. There was no way he could wield Sansehr’s enormous sword, but Viyana’s was another story. With her gone, he could take the blade for himself again and stand a fighting chance. He found her laying on her back, her head turned to the side, and her eyes closed. Her thin, long sword lay in a puddle to her right.

             
Zehlyr stretched out over the fallen warrior to retrieve the sword. As his hand wrapped around the helm, he noticed her metal breastplate rise and fall. She was still breathing. To his astonishment, she was still alive. He retrieved the blade and rushed back to the others.

             
Sansehr’s biceps looked ready to burst from under his skin. His hands were on Heeska’s shoulders, keeping the balisekt’s snapping jaws at bay. Grappling each other, the two rolled back and forth in the mud like a log in the river. Scrapes and scratches covered his arms from Heeska’s furiously whirling claws.

             
The balisekt finally managed to get one of Sansehr’s hands to slide off his wet scales, freeing his right arm. Seizing the opportunity, Heeska reared back with his claws, preparing for a final blow, but Sansehr proved too quick. With the balisekt’s body exposed, Sansehr reacted with a swift but powerful punch into Heeska’s throat. The deathblow was cancelled as Heeska instead grasped at his own neck. Falling to his side, the balisekt struggled to breathe.

             
Free once again, Sansehr shot to his feet and raced through the mud towards Azalea. The young girl was still dragging his mighty sword away, and she was nearly to the backside of the ruined jail. She looked up as he approached, letting out a small scream just before his massive hand grasped around her throat. She released the sword, letting it fall into the mud. Her hands clawed and beat against Sansehr’s hand, but it was all in vain. The Lord of Meadowgold lifted her off the ground and high above his head. Her tiny feet kicked wildly, but touched only raindrops on their way to the ground.

             
“Enough of your sorcery and treachery.” Sansehr grunted. “This madness ends…” A loud squish ended Sansehr’s sentence. His eyes shot wide open as a trail of blood ran down the corner of his mouth. Dumbfounded, he looked down to see the tip of a blade protruding from his chest. He released Azalea as the blade withdrew back through his body, letting her crash back down into the mud. With weary steps, Sansehr turned around to see Zehlyr standing behind him. The boy had Viyana’s sword in his clutches, the blade stained with his own blood.

             
Sansehr fell to his knees with a loud squish. His eyes were locked with Zehlyr’s frightened gaze. “T…traitor…” he whispered before crashing face-first into the mud.

             
Weak legged and breathing heavily, Zehlyr reached down and helped Azalea to her feet. The storm was weakening, but the rain continued to pour down. Zehlyr felt a scaly hand rest on his shoulder. He looked up and behind him. Heeska was at his side, nodding with approval and gratitude. The sight made the full weight of the situation sit heavily on his mind. He had slain the Lord of Meadowgold to save the life of a balisekt. He
was
a traitor, and wouldn’t be able to remain in the village.

             
“Thank you,” Heeska said warmly. “I know what you sacrificed by saving me.”

             
“We should run,” Zehlyr said somberly. There’s nothing here for us anymore.” Banded together, the trio set off for the eastern Wilds. It wasn’t the Savage Lands, but even the unsettled forest within the Lands of Order had its dangers. Now, they would have to call them home. The winds stopped blowing and the thunder became only an echo in the distance, but the rain still fell. Heeska reached the trees and crossed over into the Wilds, followed closely by Azalea. Zehlyr held his breath, preparing to leave his home forever.”

             
“Zehlyr!”

             
He paused and turned around. Cherin stood a few paces away, his clothes soaked, and his face a chaotic mix of confusion and anger. For a long time, they just stood there, staring into each other’s eyes. Zehlyr didn’t know what to say. His mind searched for the words to explain himself, but he couldn’t even do that to himself. With his big brother looking on in stunned silence, Zehlyr turned again and disappeared into the darkness between the trees.

Chapter 7

“Let us not marvel at our achievement, but rather find humility in what it can teach us. No grander structure of mortal craftsmanship has ever existed. Nevertheless, Her forest is far more complex, more perfect, and more breathtaking than anything we could ever hope to achieve. In that, we remember our place.”

Snowstorm: The fifth Grand Seryan, dedicating the Temple of Tranquility

Three years later...

              “You’re not concentrating. Try again.”

             
The weather was beautiful. The deep blue of the sky was free of clouds, letting the sunshine bathe the shores of the large lake in its warm glow. A light breeze blew through the early season foliage and made the spring flowers dance upon the ground between the trees. There was a small clearing on the southern shore, covered with lush grass and dotted with colorful tulips.

             
Since her arrival here, Firefly had always been awestruck by how beautiful Tranquility was. Growing up as a young faerie in Windsong, she’d often thought the stories of this legendary place had been embellished. After she arrived at the Temple for her training, she learned that they, in truth, hadn’t done this place any justice.  

             
She’d been here for three seasons now, but still caught herself distracted by the scenery. The towering waterfall especially stole her attention more than she wanted to admit.

             
“You’re never going to advance if you don’t focus yourself,” her elven instructor proclaimed. The elf stood only five and a half feet tall, but he still towered over her as most creatures did.

             
“Apologies, Master Sunrise,” she said with a humble bow of her head. She was hovering in the air at his eye level and a good fifteen paces away. “I will try harder.”

             
Sunrise gave her a warm smile. His skin was as dark as a hickory nut. His short, bright-blond hair spiked up wildly, reminding Firefly of a thorn bush. Like her, he was wearing exquisitely crafted white robes. Made of fine silk, the robes were adorned with dark green stripes that flowed down from the shoulders and across the chest all the way to where the hem almost dragged the ground. The strips were wide, allowing a weave of golden rope to crisscross them from top to bottom.

             
These were the robes of the acolytes, those from all across the Lands of Order that had sworn their lives in service to the Lady. Following the path of an acolyte wasn’t easy, and it wasn’t a decision that many were willing to make. It meant a lifetime of worship and reverence. Acolytes owned no property, held no jobs, and most importantly, showed no devotion to any one of the Lady’s tribes. For this reason, creatures from all walks of life lived in unity together in the Lady’s grand Temple.

             
Trying to clear her mind, Firefly extended a hand out in front of her. She bowed her head, but rolled her eyes up to keep visual contact with her palm. Her fingers twitched randomly, as though poked with tiny needles, but nothing else happened. Growing frustrated, she let out a long exhale. The muscles in her arm tensed and relaxed with her impatience. Finally, a series of sparks began to pop and crackle just above her palm. The sparks joined together, forming a small ball of fire.

Firefly gasped as she lifted her head suddenly. “I did it!” she shouted. Her excitement broke her concentration, causing the tiny fireball to disappear into thin air.

              Sunrise sighed as he shook his head.

             
“What?” Firefly asked rather childishly. “I did it, didn’t I?”

             
“You did,” Sunrise answered. “But your accomplishment just now equals what the others in your class achieved many weeks ago. You still have a long way to go.”

             
Firefly hung her head as her arms dropped to her sides. She let out an exasperated sigh. “Well, I thought it was pretty good,” she said nearly soft enough to be a whisper.

             
Sunrise walked down to the edge of the water, taking a seat upon a knee-high stone sticking out of the sand. “Come to the water,” he instructed.

Fearing a lecture, Firefly let her beautiful wings gently carry her over to her disappointed instructor. The orange and black patterns upon them made her look like a monarch butterfly from a distance. Her long, curly hair was similarly colored, creating a sharp contrast to her milky-white skin. Softly, she landed on Sunrise’s shoulder and gazed out at the sparkling surface of the lake.

              Sunrise folded his fingers on his lap. “Why did you come here, Firefly?” he asked bluntly.

             
Firefly was taken aback by his abrupt question. “I came here because I love the Lady, master. I want to give myself to Her service, to be a vessel of Her will.”

             
“You say that, yet I constantly sense your mind on other matters,” Sunrise retorted. “You are distracted from your task, and it has put you behind.”

             
“I don’t know what to say,” Firefly said honestly. “I want to do well, but my mind keeps wandering as I look around this wonderful place.”

             
“Tranquility is breathtaking, I’ll agree,” Sunrise said. “However, you have been here for months now. You should be used to these surroundings by now.”

             
“It’s not just the visual beauty,” Firefly exclaimed. “I can’t stop thinking of the history here. Just think, this lake is the very place where the Lady’s army did battle against the forces of death and darkness. We are sitting right where she was when she trapped the Vailrock in the Void. The wonder of that just hasn’t died away for me.”

             
Sunrise smiled. “You have great appreciation for history, and your love for all creatures is admirable. I’ve no doubt you’ve a heart that knows nothing but kindness and mercy, an important attribute for anyone wishing to walk the path of an acolyte.”

             
“Exactly,” Firefly said. “So…”

             
“But,” Sunrise interrupted. “I’ve searched your soul and found your faith lacking.”

             
“What are you saying?!” Firefly snapped. She couldn’t help but feel offended. “Are you saying that I don’t believe in the Lady?”

             
Sunrise took a deep breath. His hands rose up in front of his chest, sending a clear communication that she was taking his words the wrong way. “You misconstrue my words. Your love for the Lady is genuine, but it is the idea of Her you love, not the being herself.”

             
“I don’t follow,” she admitted.

             
“The idea of the Lady fills your heart with gladness. You like believing that She is watching over you, over all of us. You like the thought of Her and Her spirits tending to the forest.”

             
“So, what is the problem?”

             
Sunrise extended a crooked finger out in front of his face. Understanding what the gesture communicated. Firefly lifted off her master’s shoulder and perched herself on his finger. They were face to face now, though his was easily five times larger than her entire body. “Firefly, you believe that the Lady is real, but I sense that you do not
know
she is.”

             
“I don’t understand,” the young faerie said.

             
“In our lives, we come across obstacles we cannot control, problems we cannot solve. It is in these moments that an acolyte must let go of all worry and doubt, placing their complete trust in the Lady. Your magic is weak because you lack the conviction to do so. You believe, but not enough to risk your life on it.”

             
“That’s ridiculous!” Firefly shouted. She knew her tone was far too brash for addressing her master, but the very idea of what he was implying hurt her deeply. Her love and devotion to the Lady were pure.

             
“Master Sunrise,” a centaur acolyte said as he approached them from the east.

Sunrise stood as Firefly lifted off his finger. They both faced the newcomer, their hands clasped down in front of them reverently. “What is it?” Sunrise asked.

              “Grand Seryan Silvermist requests your presence.”

             
Sunrise nodded. “I’ll be there at once.”

             
“Shall I accompany you, master?” Firefly asked.

             
“You are my study,” Sunrise responded. “You go where I go unless instructed to do otherwise.”

             
“Very well then,” she said with a smile. Lead the way.

             
Standing over 45 feet tall and covering over 2500 square feet, the Temple of Tranquility was an impressive spectacle. Easily the largest constructed entity in the known forest, the Temple was comprised entirely of stone, gold, and iron. Large slabs of polished granite and marble were dragged from the mountains many miles through the trees along the Safe Roads to Tranquility. There, they were used to erect the massive house of worship, complete with elaborate carvings of ivy vines, birds, trees, and flowers all around it. The walls looked like the forest itself, encased in stone.

             
At the top of the broadest wall, an enormous carving of the Lady hovered proudly over all creation, her hands extended out to her sides and her eyes turned lovingly down on the forest below. Her massive body was covered in tree bark, with small, leafy branches extending up and out from her shoulders. Her hair was a wild and beautiful tangle of twigs, vines, ivy, and flowers. Two beautiful emeralds were placed for her eyes.

             
The size and beauty of the Temple were enough to make it a wonder of engineering, but it was the placement of the structure that made it truly spectacular. As the legends told, the great elf Shimmer was chosen by the Lady to end the Blight during a vision. The vision had taken place on the shores of Tranquility. Shimmer was called by the Lady to walk out upon the water. As the chosen elf stood on the water’s surface as easily as she could dry land, the Lady laid her hand upon her shoulder.

             
The great Shimmer revealed to the early acolytes the location upon the water where the moment took place, and it was decided years later that the Temple would sit upon that very spot. It took decades of work and cost several acolytes their lives, but the Temple of Tranquility was finally built in the center of a massive, stone bridge straddling the water over the exact spot where Shimmer felt the Lady’s touch.

             
Firefly hovered at Sunrise’s side as he marched up the massive stone bridge to the Temple door. The bridge itself was over 140 feet long from one shore to the other and just over fifty feet wide. Walls of stone lined each side. Massive columns of solid granite extended down into the water from the center where the building stood, holding up the building’s massive weight.

             
“What do you think she wants?” Firefly inquired.

             
“I have no idea,” Sunrise answered. The duo came to the tall doors of the temple. Standing fifteen feet tall, the doors were made of solid gold. Two guards stood as still as the stone pillars surrounding them at the entrance. One human and one centaur, each dressed in acolyte robes covered in shining, silver armor. Recognizing both of their fellow acolytes, the guards each grabbed one of the doors and opened them with a loud groan.

             
The inside of the Temple was just as incredible to behold. High arches of stone crossed the ceiling, trailing down into long columns. The floor was a smooth plane of polished marble. Statues of seryans that had gone before stood in a large circle around a much larger statue of Shimmer herself. Towering thirty feet above the floor, the stone carving of the famous elf stood with her hands clasped in front of her chest and her head bowed. At her feet stood a chest-high pedestal, displaying a gleaming, golden urn.

             
Sunrise and Firefly each took their own paths around the statue of Shimmer, moving to the back wall of the Temple and up the stone steps where a large, granite table stretched in front of a circular stain-glass window. At the center of the table sat an elderly elven woman. Her skin was the color of coffee beans, with long white hair trailing down the back of her head in an intricate braid. Her robes were similar in design to those of the other acolytes, but her white fabric was replaced with a brilliant orange that glowed like a sunset.

             
“Grand Seryan,” Sunrise said has he took a seat across the table from her.

             
“Thank you for coming, acolyte,” the woman said kindly.

             
Firefly landed on the table and bowed, but said nothing. It was not her place to join in this conversation. In truth, she expected to be dismissed at any moment.

             
“What can I do for you?” Sunrise inquired.