Alkara can’t remember being happier. In fact she’s pretty sure her life just keeps getting better. When Uncle Iro and she had set out for the capital of the Buttington Duchy all by themselves, they’d quickly picked up their old rhythm. Just the two of them. Too big now for their swinging trick, Alkara had hopped on his back the boring way and together they’d gleefully sung limericks and travel songs all the way to the Reäsin forest.
Okay maybe not all the way. But it had been so long since the two of them had gotten to travel alone together. Alkara hadn’t realized how much she’d missed it.
Not that she would change anything. Chiron is the best brother she could have ever asked for. And Dreonna had turned out to be the older sister she’d always wanted. Someone who’s somehow more responsible in some ways but just as reckless and impetuous and fun in others. Sure they still bicker. Dreonna’s a neat freak, and Alkara likes things a little messy. Chiron is always hiding prank traps wherever he can. It’s a recipe for chaos. Uncle Iro loves it. And Alkara and Chiron still tease Dreonna relentlessly about how long it had taken her to ask if she could stay for good. They’d all figured it out before she had: she’s part of the family.
Alkara snorts with laughter. Dreonna is way smarter than Alkara will ever be. But sometimes Dre just doesn’t… get things. If she can’t analyze it or explain why it works the way it does, it doesn’t make any sense. It isn’t “logical.” It drives her obsession and constant experimentation, which Uncle Iro only encourages.
Alkara beams and sighs happily. Now moving as easily through forest as she does the city, she tilts her head up to enjoy the sunlight filtering through the trees and the breeze whispering through the branches. She can’t really believe how lucky she is. When she’d left her hometown, her old family, she’d never thought she’d get to have a family that mattered. That she loves. That love her. That she’ll do anything for. That had never been what family was for her back home.
Sometimes, when she thinks about it, she feels bad for them.
She takes a big bite out of a piece of jerky as she walks with Uncle Iro. “So, when are you gonna tell me more about this important mission?” They’d been traveling for a couple days now, and he still hasn’t told her much. He’d just said that it’s going to be dangerous. Risky. That the [lives] of hundreds if not thousands of people are at stake.
Alkara can’t wait. She’s so excited to be able to help so many people. Really make a difference.
“When you need to know.” Uncle Iro says gravely. “The matter is extremely confidential. And given whose forest we’re walking through, you never know who is listening. Be very careful what you say around the Reäsin.”
Alkara nods solemnly. As much fun as she’s having, part of her wishes Chiron and Dreonna had come, so they could have fun with her. So she could share it with them.
But they’d been tired. The four of them had just gotten back from their regular trip down to Old Llandeilo and Snakewoods, and Chiron and Dreonna had been looking forward to sleeping on their cots and being home. Alkara, on the other hand, had already been trying to figure out how to stave off the boredom of being stuck in a city with nothing to do.
Every now and then Uncle Iro lets her take a job from a guild board, as long as Dre and Chiron go with her and he can supervise. But he insists that this close to the Wastes, they need to wait at least another year to start working for a guild in earnest. Especially with the addition of Dreonna. They have to figure out a new team dynamic. Learn how to protect and defend each other as well as possible.
And that’s going well, but Alkara just wants to get out there already! There’s adventure to be had. Monsters to fight. Battles to win.
Which is why when Uncle Iro had gotten the news that a friend of his in Buttington desperately needed his help, Alkara had immediately volunteered to go. Chiron had said he wanted to spend some time with his mom, and Dre was already buried in one of her notebooks and pulling out ingredients for an experiment. She had work to do. Observations to make.
Alkara’s thoughts wander back to the mission at hand. Extremely confidential. Hundreds if not thousands of people counting on them or else they’d suffer a terrible fate. She fantasizes about what it could be.
Maybe it’s a big monster, terrorizing the town, and Alkara and Uncle Iro will swoop in and take it out. Or maybe a gang that’s crafty and moves strategically through the town, stealing from hardworking, honest folk. Or what if it’s a cruel guild leader! Urdima knows they have plenty of those in Three Rivers. Cheating their members out of their hard earned money and goods.
Whatever it is, Alkara decides, it’s gonna be totally awesome. Nothing is going to ruin this trip.
A few days later, Alkara grumbles and scowls and balls up her fists as she finally walks through the city gates of Brecon, Buttington’s capital. She heads toward the nearest market to explore and distract herself from how not awesome this trip is turning out to be.
Crops.
They’re here to help a friend of Uncle Iro’s… with crops. She’s never felt more angry with herself. Another one of Uncle Iro’s tricks. And she’d fallen for it. Every single thing he’d said about the situation had technically been true. The situation is confidential, precarious, and will have dire consequences if they don’t figure it out. Not only is the farmer’s livelihood at stake, but all the people he feeds employs, and trades with will be affected.
But Alkara has absolutely no talent or knowledge of farming or crops, and had quickly become bored out of her mind. Of all the scenarios Alkara had fantasized about on the way here…
CROPS!!!
Alkara growls in frustration as she wanders the city. It’s a lot smaller than Three Rivers. Though that really isn’t surprising considering Three Rivers is one of the largest cities in southern Grecia. And Brecon being smaller wouldn’t really be a problem except it probably means there won’t be much she can find here that she can’t find there. She sighs with resignation. Might as well look anyway. Nothing better to do.
The first market she wanders through does nothing to relieve her boredom. Sure there are stalls with different looking clothes on display. Lots of flowing blue fabrics. But Alkara isn’t one for fancy clothes. Her heart skips a quick beat when she catches sight of a sign for the Northern Blackshaw Company. She turns ever so slightly to head in that direction before she stops herself and scowls, her heart sinking once more. Kierra’s not here. She’s back in Three Rivers. Where all the interesting things happen.
Alkara wanders closer to the lake side of the city. A stench fills the air. It only grows stronger as she nears the lake. Her eyes widen as she sees… what she figures is a fish market, but it’s not one like she’s ever seen before.
There are fish everywhere. All kinds of fish. Big fish, small fish. Round fish, long fish. The smell is disgusting. She swallows to keep her breakfast down. Even the docks next to the Wastes don’t smell this bad. But Alkara’s curiosity is piqued. So she digs around in her bag, grabs a strip of cloth to wrap it around her mouth and nose, and makes her way further into the market.
It does not disappoint. Fish stalls in Three Rivers have a few kinds of fish, but mostly just eel. And who really likes eel? But this lake seemingly has an endless variety of fish. That seems odd to Alkara. How big is the lake anyway? Can there really be that many different types of fish in one lake?
When she finally stopped to ask these questions at a stall with a fish that had more colors than she’d thought possible to exist on one animal, the keeper explained that the lake was magical. They believed it held at least one portal to the water plane. Supposedly mages from Academi Ysgol had come and disproven that, generations back. But then why did a water elemental arise every couple of years and attack the sailors? Why were there patches of the lake that the sailors avoided, warding off bad omens as they skirted around whole patches of the lake.
No, the townsfolk are convinced. “And Heneas over there has proof!” The young man says.
Alkara turns to where he pointed, “Heneas?”
“Yeah! He caught one of the creatures! Not a water elemental, mind you, but another creature that no one else has ever seen come out of the lake!”
“No kidding.” Alkara spots the stall the young man is pointing and turns back to him, “Thanks.”
As she starts to move away he calls after her, “Hey! You sure you don’t want a Crescent Fish? Tastes of rabbit, but a little sweet!”
Alkara laughs and turns back and waves as she walks away, “No thanks!”
The next stall turns out to be exceedingly disappointing. It had taken her a while to figure out what the “creature from the water plane” was, until she’d tilted her head to look at it from a new angle. It had started to look familiar, so she tilted her head further, as close to upside-down as she could get.
It’s a mangled platypus. A big one, she’ll admit, but a platypus nonetheless.
She scowls as she walks away, thinking that maybe those mages from Ysgol are right. But if the story about the elementals is true–
“Hey pretty lady! Would you like an ice sculpture of your likeness? Only 50 crowns!”
Alkara startles badly and looks up at the well-dressed man who she swears had literally jumped in front of her. Alkara looks at him with a little cynicism, “Um. It’s barely harvest time. Wouldn’t it melt?”
The man doesn’t even blink, “We enchant it so it lasts! Come look at one we did of his Grace’s daughter, Kolena!”
The guy’s over-the-top, unbridled enthusiasm makes Alkara squirm and wish she were anywhere else. Except maybe back at the farm. Anything but that. She looks at the sculpture the man proudly presents and sees an impossibly beautiful young woman, with perfect curves from her well-sized breasts to her narrow waist to her perfectly shaped hips, not to mention her huge eyes and ridiculously wavy, perfectly shaped hair.
Alkara scowls, suddenly self-conscious. Oh sure. I’m sure that’s exactly what she looks like. Must be sucking up to the Duke. “No thanks.” She grumbles as she turns away, now somehow in a worse mood than when she’d gotten here. She’s had enough.
Time to find some food. She’s starving. Uncle Iro had given her some coin, three Silver Wreaths and a half-dozen Coronals, so she wanders around scoping out the taverns. She finally finds one that’s hosting a minstrel, The Kingfisher & Crown.
She shrugs, might as well try it. She loves good stories. Especially when the minstrel can sweep her into a story. Losing herself in an epic tale is one of her favorite things. Or even the more mundane ones. The best minstrels have a way of making even normal life seem interesting and worth paying attention to.
She walks in, finds a table easily enough, since it’s still pretty early in the day, and orders her food. She looks around. No sign of the minstrel. Hmmm.
The barkeep brings over some food and as she hands him the coin she asks, “Hey, when is uh… when is Nlaea the Effervescent supposed to start?”
The barkeep looks at her like she’s stupid, “Show’s not till tonight kid. Not gonna pay her to entertain an empty room. Come back for dinner and you’ll catch her.” He tucks the coin into a pouch and heads back to the bar.
Alkara feels her cheeks warm. Duh. She knows better. Ugh. “Right. Sorry. Thanks.” She ducks her head and tucks into her food, trying to finish quickly. Lunch hadn’t been that much. She’s pretty sure she can justify coming back as long as she actually gets to watch the performance. If there’s anything Uncle Iro values, it’s learning. And even though Alkara has no minstrel aspirations herself, he knows she loves the art of storytelling. So he lets her splurge every now and then. Especially when famous bards comes through Three Rivers.
“Excuse me, miss?” A smooth, tenor voice says.
Alkara starts badly, splashing some of her stew down her tunic. She curses, grabbing at a napkin and tries to start cleaning it up. She glances up and she starts again, but less badly this time. The young man that had come up to her was clearly of noble birth, with fair skin and hands devoid of callus and blisters. Though when she looks a little closer she notices that his clothes are a little worn and ragged, and that they look a little baggy. What must have once been cleanly trimmed, short chestnut hair is a little shaggy, with a little stubble on his cheeks and jaw. But his brown eyes are… kind. And currently filled with… what Alkara is pretty sure is admiration. Not like the eyes of a noble at all.
“Um. Yes?” Alkara finally manages, still wiping at the spill on her tunic.
“Please forgive me. I’ve been basking in your radiance and forgot myself. But it would be a grievous error to miss the opportunity to inform you that I’ve not seen any whose visage approaches your beauty.” He says simply, the sincerity and passion clear in his voice.
Alkara’s mouth drops open. She blinks at him, stunned. “Are you… what? You’re crazy mister. Or drunk. Or both.”
The young man chuckles and smiles sadly. “I have been accused of all three more times that I can count in the last couple of months, but that will not stop me from proclaiming the truth.” He offers a small bow, “And I shall adhere to the veracity of my statement until the day that I die. Your beauty is unlike any I have ever seen before.”
Alkara furrows her brow as she listens and then squirms uncomfortably, thinking about the perfect ice sculpture of the perfect maiden. She isn’t that. So what’s this guy going on about? “Alright mister, you’ve made your point. Now what do you want? Are you trying to like… flirt with me or something? ‘Cause I’m not interested.” Romance is one arena in which she is so laughably inept that she never notices when someone’s flirting with her until Uncle Iro or Chiron says something. Even Dre catches on before she does. And romance is one of those things that Dre “doesn’t get.”
“I want nothing from you. I merely wished to acknowledge beauty when I saw it. Beauty is rarely appreciated enough. It is vastly easier to focus on the darkness and ugliness in the world. I believe that to be one of humanity’s greatest tragedies.” He finishes with a murmur. He shakes his head, clearing his eyes of the sadness that had begun to creep in, and gives her another courtly bow. “I bid you farewell. May you and yours flourish and thrive in all seasons.”
As he begins to leave, Alkara shakes herself out of her stunned stupor. “Hey, wait!”
The young man turns back to her in surprise, his eyebrows raised.
“Um. Have you had lunch? I was thinking about ordering more food. You uh… you could join me if you want.”
A brilliant smile spreads across his face, “Only a fool would turn down an invitation to dine with a lovely lady such as yourself. I gratefully accept.” He turns back and sits at her table.
Alkara scowls a bit while she waves the barkeep over, “Yeah alright, but you gotta stop saying stuff like that. I’m not that pretty. What’s your name anyway?”
The young man frowns at her a bit, “I couldn’t disagree more, but I shall honor your wishes. My name is Sengmar, of House– well, formerly of House Alfur.”
Alkara arcs an eyebrow at that, “Formerly? How do you get kicked out of a noble house?”
Sengmar shrugs, “By trying to stop their plot to assassinate the Earl and the Duke of Heath.”
Alkara’s jaw drops again as the barkeep comes up, shaking his head.
“Alright you, if you’re gonna keep going on about that, I’m gonna have to kick you out. Everyone knows you’re full of shit, and you’re upsetting the customers.” He looks at Alkara, “What do you need kid?”
Akara glances back and forth from the barkeep and Sengmar as Sengmar just shrugs, “Um. Two more bowls of stew please. And um… do you want anything to drink?”
Sengmar shakes his head, “You have my gratitude.”
“Uh. Sure.” Alkara looks back at the barkeep, “Yeah, just more food please.” Alkara passes the barkeep more coin, who pockets it and heads back to the kitchen. “What did he mean, everyone knows you’re full of shit?”
Sengmar sighs, “It’s a long story. And I fear if I tell it again here it will cause trouble for you, so I shall abstain. Suffice to say, my family and my former teacher have very cleverly covered their tracks. Everyone has bought the ‘evidence’ presented to them that contradicts my story. So no one believes me.”
Alkara looks at him skeptically, “You realize how insane that sounds, right?”
Sengmar chuckles, “Yes. As I said before, I have been called that and more in the last couple of months.” His eyes grow distant, “But it is my duty to do what I can to bring my family to justice. If these are the lengths to which they’ll go to obtain power, what will they do to keep it? That is not a family that serves the best interest of the people. That is not who should be–” Sengmar cuts himself off as the barkeeper returns with two more bowls of stew.
He eyes Sengmar suspiciously for a few moments, then turns to Alkara, “This guy bothering you miss?”
Alkara looks back and forth between them again, pursing her lips. She finally shakes her head, “Nah. He can stay.”
“Suit yourself.” The barkeep shrugs and heads off.
Clearly hungry, Sengmar still takes the time to eat slowly, neatly, and properly. Alkara snorts, but says nothing.
“So,” Sengmar says after finishing a bite, “What brings you to Brecon?”
Alkara immediately releases a loud sigh of frustration, “It was supposed to be an adventure. I was supposed to get to save people. Make a difference. But my Uncle tricked me. Just some dumb crops that are going bad for no reason.” Alkara trails off into grumbling as she finishes her stew. She looks up and realizes Sengmar is only halfway done. She arcs an eyebrow at him but then just shakes her head again. Nobility.
Then she realizes that he’s look back at her intently, his curiosity clearly piqued. “Crops? Going bad for no reason? What do you mean? How so? Going bad in what way? Are they still growing? Or are–” Sengmar cuts himself off at the wide-eyed stare Alkara is once again giving him. He chuckles, “Apologies. Plant life of all kind is somewhat of a passionate interest of mind. Crops are an essential part of a city’s ecosystem. Saving these crops would save many people indeed.”
Alkara just scowls. “Great. Next you’ll be asking if you can come see it so that you can help too.”
Sengmar opens his mouth but then closes it again, then politely goes back to his soup. “It is clear that you do not wish to go back, all the same if you would be so kind as to direct me to the crops that need tending, I would dearly love to be of service.” He says quietly, without looking at her.
Still frowning, arms crossed, Alkara sighs. “Fine. I’ll just take you there. Uncle Iro keeps going on about this being confidential and a sensitive matter. Probably shouldn’t name any names here.”
Sengmar nods, “I can see why, particularly if the situation is as dire as it sounds.”
Alkara gives him another assessing look, then takes one last swig and slams the empty tankard down on the table, making him jump a bit. She smirks, tosses a few more coins on the table, and heads to the door. “Come on then. I imagine you’ll want to see what’s going on before sunset.”
The next day…
Bored.
Bored.
Bored.
I am so bored! But she’s still glad she found this Sengmar guy. Apparently whatever’s going on with the crops has even stumped Uncle Iro. And though the farmer had been hesitant to accept Sengmar’s help, Uncle Iro had calmly pointed out that they need all the help they can get.
Something else she likes about Sengmar is that he genuinely seems interested in figuring out how to explain things to her. She loves learning from Uncle Iro, but most of the time his teaching philosophy is “give vague hints and let her figure it out.” Which is great and all. Most of the time. And sometimes is maddening.
Sengmar tries patiently to break everything down to terms she can understand. She’s learning more and more about why this problem is so important.
But that doesn’t stop her from being bored because she can do absolutely nothing about it! She feels so useless! It’s driving her crazy. What’s she supposed to do about sick crops?!
And part of the problem is that whatever disease had stricken part of this farmer’s harvest seems to be spreading. But quarantining the diseased plants had proven all but impossible, since they don’t seem to show the disease until it’s too late.
That little tidbit had piqued Alkara’s interest when Sengmar had explained it to her. As bored as she is, she wonders if her newfound ability to commune with Urdima would help at all. She scoffs at herself. Like that wouldn’t have been the first thing Uncle Iro would have tried. Except… had he? She’s not sure. She’d been too bored and annoyed to ask.
Hmm.
Alkara wanders out into one of the large fields of grain. She tries to open her senses, to commune with the plants and the field and the spirit that flows through them all. But she gets nothing. That link, or whatever it is, isn’t always easy for her to establish. And apparently today, of all days, it feels like being difficult.
With a frustrated groan she flops onto her back in the field and stares up into the sky.
So bored…
But in her bored stupor, something brushes at the edge of her senses. She immediately sits up and tries to focus on it, but it slips away. Alkara frowns. That’s weird.
She flops back down into the field and once again, right as she feels like the boredom might kill her she feels that same brush across her awareness. This time she doesn’t move, but tries to focus on it mentally. But maybe she focuses too hard? Because it slips away again.
As frustrated as she is, Alkara tries really hard to relax. Worst case scenario, she’ll just get bored again and then it’ll come back. Hopefully. But she’s curious. What’s the boredom leading her to?
There! There it is! Instead of trying to grasp at it and hold on to the sensation, Alkara does nothing. Just lets it be. And instead of running away like she’s sure it will, it’s almost like her field of awareness widens and deepens. And she… she can feel it. A… an unsettling energy. It isn’t just making the plants sick, it… it’s infecting the soil. The ground. The very fabric of the world. Is something poisoning the soil here? It starts to make her feel nauseated, but she’s so close to figuring out where the root of the problem is.
The root…
Alkara gasps. Her back arches and her stomach heaves. She rolls over to throw up, doing her best to keep the mess away from herself. She hopes the crops don’t mind. She can’t do much about it if they do. She stumbles to her feet and makes her way back to the farmhouse. She heads straight to their guest room and collapses on her bed. It’s only after a few moments that she realizes she’s trembling. She kicks off her boots and crawls under the covers, trying to think of how to describe what she’d felt to Uncle Iro. But after a short time she falls into a fitful sleep, with an unsettling sense that something is very wrong seeping into her dreams.
She finds herself in the middle of a field. The very same field she’d been lying in earlier. She can see the farmhouse, the barn, the stables. Everything is the same except for that unsettling, almost unhinged, feeling that makes everything feel… more extreme. The shadows are darker. The light is brighter. It hurts her head.
And then there’s the tree. That tree hadn’t been there before.
It’s a magnificent beech tree. Strong, undulating grey trunk. Large arching branches. Gloriously red, yellow, and orange leaves signaling the harvest and the coming of winter. Alkara is mesmerized. She walks toward it, almost as if in a trance. It feels… almost… more alive than most trees. Like it has more energy, even for a tree this size. Not that Alkara had had a lot of time to study the different energy signatures of trees… Uncle Iro had suggested that it might be a good idea…
As she comes up next to the tree, the weightless, floaty feeling is almost unbearable. She worries she might throw up again. And now she can feel… something else. Fear. Anger. Hatred. Suffering.
Madness.
A pair of grey spectral arms suddenly reach out of the tree and grasp Alkara’s head, pulling her toward an inhumanly beautiful, yet twisted female face surrounded by fiery red and orange hair.
Alkara gasps as she sits up in her bed, breathing hard. Her stomach heaves again. Desperately looking around for some sort of bin, Uncle Iro quickly moves toward her with a large bowl. He cradles her head as she once again loses the contents of her stomach. Not that there’s much left after the last time.
She coughs and sputters, wiping her face with the cool cloth Uncle Iro had handed to her. When she’s finished Uncle Iro sets the bowl aside, helps her lie back down, and starts checking her, murmuring to himself. “Definitely a fever… what have you gotten yourself into this time girl…”
“Tree…” Alkara says between ragged breaths, “Check the tree…”
Uncle Iro frowns, “Tree? What tree?”
“There’s a tree… in the fields… or… there should be…”
Uncle Iro shakes his head, “There’s no tree in the fields, Alkara. What happened? Haverd said you missed lunch.” Amusement tinges the concern on his face, “You never miss lunch. Did you get bit by something? What happened?”
Alkara squeezes her eyes shut, trying to calm her breathing. She opens her eyes and stares up at the ceiling for a few moments before looking at Uncle Iro, “I was trying… to commune with… Urdima. And then there was a lady. She grabbed my head. There was a lady in the tree.” Alkara vaguely registers a small intake of breath across the room, then a door opening and closing.
Uncle Iro’s mouth quirks with a sad smile as a small huff of laughter escapes him. “Looks like I should have warned you after all. I take it you sensed the sickness in the earth?”
Alkara nods.
“I felt it when we got here. Like the earth itself is weeping…” As he trails off he reaches over to wipe Alkara’s forehead with another cloth, “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner. It’s too dangerous to try to commune with Urdima here.”
“But… The lady. She was there in the tree!”
Uncle Iro smiles sadly as he reaches up and strokes her cheek, “Fevered dreams, young one. You’ve been tossing and turning for hours. And that’s not counting how long you were in here before we returned.”
Alkara furrows her brow. We…? Oh yeah. Sengmar. “But… the tree was there…” She starts to pull the covers away and struggle out of bed, but Uncle Iro stops her, firmly pushing her back down.
“Ohhhh no. Here, drink.” Uncle Iro helps her sip some water as he continues, “I’m going to clean up a bit and ask Haverd for some broth. When young Sengmar returns, we’ll continue working toward a solution. But you’re going to rest. We’ll need this fever to break before you can be up and about again.”
Alkara growls in frustration as she lies back down. Or you could just use some of your magic. As comforting as it is to know that he has it in reserve if things ever got really bad, it’s still frustrating living a mostly mundane life when your Uncle has some spells up his sleeve. Where is Dre when you need her?
But as annoyed as she is, she feels herself drifting back to sleep. She doesn’t bother fighting it. She doesn’t have the energy to fight that and Uncle Iro. Especially when it feels like they’ve been fighting more often lately…
When Alkara wakes up, she feels much better. The fever broken, she tosses the bed covers off, finds the water jar, and downs a glass. She stares out the window, briefly noting that it’s getting close to sunset. She frowns. She… is pretty sure she should be able to see that tree from here. But it’s no where to be found.
She presses her lips together firmly. Uncle Iro’s not going to be happy, she thinks as she pulls her boots on. She goes back to the window to open it, but it doesn’t budge. She looks at it, incredulous. You’ve got to be kidding me. She whips around and walks to the door, but finds it locked. Uncle Iro! With a wordless cry of frustration she whirls back toward the window, determined to get it open. She struggles with it, growing more and more frustrated, until it finally budges.
Not even bothering to think about why it had worked that time and not the others, Alkara quickly pushes the window open and climbs out. She heads straight for where she’s pretty sure that tree should be. When she gets there, sure enough, there’s a wide, uneven stump.
Vindication floods through Alkara. I knew it! Then she screams as the spectral, female-like figure she’d seen in her dream rises from the stump in front of her. Even though she’d been right about the tree, she hadn’t been expecting that.
The figure solidifies in front of her, but it loses none of its menace. Waves of madness, hatred, and anger roll off the grey woman, nauseating Alkara again. Alkara raises a hand to her mouth and another up to the being that had appeared. “Please! I’m trying to help! Your tree. Where is it?” She’d finally realized what the creature was. The tree that had been removed had housed a dryad. A dryad whose skin is smooth and light grey. Her hair is fiery orange and red, her eyes a nut brown. And her eyebrows look like the husk of beechnuts. She’s wearing a… the closest think Alkara can call it is a dress, the same colors as her hair, with long spines flaring down and out.Dryad’s appearance: skin is smooth and light grey, hair is fiery orange and red to reflect the color the leaves would be, eyes a nut brown, eyebrows look like the husk of of the beechnuts; “dress” is also the color of the leaves and has the spiny vein things
Dryad’s name: Caesyla
The dryad doesn’t reply so much as screech, “GONE. FELLED BY THE THOUGHTLESS HUMANS.”
The fury and suffering start to overwhelm Alkara. She stumbles to a knee, still desperately trying to avoid throwing up again.
“Hail, Lady Caesyla of the Tree of Faeries!” A smooth, now familiar, tenor voice rings out. “I beg audience as a friend of the Summer Court.”
Alkara looks over her shoulder and blinks a bit in confusion. Summer Court? Sengmar’s skin… has it always had that reddish-orange sheen? Is she going crazy? Is it the dryad messing with her?
The dryad ignores Sengmar’s call, her face twisting in fury as Uncle Iro suddenly appears between her and Alkara.
“You’re overwhelming the girl. Nothing good will come from harming her.” Uncle Iro says firmly. “I would prefer to offer reparations rather than retribution. Release her as your conduit, and I will find a way to help you.”
The two stare each other down for a few moments before Alkara gasps with sharp relief, the waves suddenly gone, her head feeling far too light.
Uncle Iro nods briefly, “Thank you.” He glances briefly at Sengmar as he joins them.
“Lady Caesyla,” Sengmar begins, offering her a courtly bow, “We offer our deepest condolences and apologies for the tragedy the ignorant humans of this land have visited upon you. If you will indulge us, we would like to make amends.”
“HOW COULD YOU POSSIBLY RIGHT THIS WRONG?”
Alkara shudders as Uncle Iro helps her up. Even though the dryad had released its connection with her, the experience of the poor creature’s feelings lingers. And it would have driven her mad if Uncle Iro hadn’t intervened. She wonders what Sengmar has planned. She hopes it works. For Caesyla’s sake. For Urda’s sake. She isn’t feeling too keen on Haverd at the moment.
“Allow us to perform a brief ritual. Surely there are progeny of your tree able to be collected and retrieved. Depending on how many we find, we may be able to restore your tree very nearly to it’s former glory.”
Caesyla, fury never wavering, stares at Sengmar for what feels like forever. Though to his credit, Sengmar doesn’t even blink. Just gazes confidently back at her. Apparently he passes whatever test she had in mind.
“YOU HAVE UNTIL DAWN.” And with that, she slowly fades from view.
Alkara’s breath rushes from her. She looks at Sengmar, who looks like he had just had a conversation over tea, or crumpets, or whatever it is nobles like to eat while talking.
“Quickly you two, back to the house.” Uncle Iro says. He leads them straight to their room and shuts the door, looking at Sengmar carefully and crossing his arms. “Alright. So what’s the plan?”
Finally shaking, Sengmar reaches for a chair and slowly lowers himself into it. “Beech nuts. We need all the beech nuts that we can find that are from her tree. Saplings as well, if possible. I need to prepare for the ritual. I don’t quite have what I need, so I’ll have to try to cobble it together from what I have. That will take me… at least till dawn.” He smiles nervously, “Can you–?”
Uncle Iro nods, “We’ll take care of gathering the nuts and any saplings we can find. Fortunately, it was a lone beech in the middle of a field. And it’s likely Haverd and his family still have some beechnuts gathered and stored. What’s the nature of this ritual?”
“Transmutative. But it’ll only work if the material is from Caesyla’s line. If they still have any wood left from her tree, that will help tremendously as well.”
Uncle Iro nods, “We’ll do what we can.”
With some color returning to his face, Sengmar nods. “Urdima’s blessing upon you both.”
Alkara starts but Uncle Iro just smiles, then gestures for Alkara to follow.
Thankfully, since beech nuts are a good food for the winter, and a beech tree the size of Caesyla’s would have littered the area with them, the family has a literal barrel full of unshelled nuts and another barrel of shelled. Not to mention the huge pile of wood they’d split and stored for the winter. Haverd and his wife, Pella, had objected to giving it all up. Strongly.
“Iroshi, old friend, are you sure we can trust this kid?” Haverd finally says. “We’re already losing crops to this dryad and now we have to give up our winter stores?”
“Reparations are due, my friend.” Uncle Iro replies solemnly. “You’ve destroyed a dryad’s home. This is the least you can do. It might cut into business for a year or two but I’d say it’s a far cry better than losing the whole farm.”
Haverd scoffs. “The boy has been spinning mad stories about the new Duke of Heath ever since he got into town. He’s clearly as crazy as the dryad out there. We don’t even know if this will work. Isn’t the best thing to do to just put her out of her misery?”
“EXCUSE ME?!” Alkara blurts out.
Uncle Iro quickly cuts her off, then turns to his friend. “No, Haverd.” He says with much more patience and understanding than Alkara thinks he deserves, “If you can’t trust the kid, you know you can trust me. As far as I can tell, he knows what he’s doing. This is your best shot at resolving this issue. I will not raise a hand against the dryad until I have to, and you will not be able to defeat her without me.”
Haverd looks at Pella, who shrugs glumly. Haverd sighs and shakes his head. “Alright.”
“And you can help us get them out to the stump too!” Alkara says with more than a little gloating in her voice.
Haverd gives Alkara flat look for a few moments before nodding. “Aye. That we can.”
As Haverd and the farm hands take care of that, Alkara and Iroshi scour the field, looking for saplings that may have originated from Caesyla’s tree. They don’t find many, since the tree had been in the middle of the field. Haverd and his farmhands had been very efficient at clearing them out when they appeared. Hopefully the handful they’ve found will help enough.
Sengmar had given them specific instruction on how the material was to be arranged. After sticking a few carefully placed torches in the ground for light, Alkara and Uncle Iro work on arranging things as best they can according to Sengmar’s specifications. And every now and then Alkara swears she sees flaming red-orange hair and brown eyes watching them.
Once they’re done, Alkara sinks to the ground in exhaustion, her stomach growling. Uncle Iro looks over at her and smirks. “Alright. We’ve done all we can for now. Let’s get you some food and get some rest.”
Alkara nods and smiles weakly, stumbling to her feet. Uncle Iro turns and kneels, gesturing for her to climb onto his back, and Alkara’s smile grows a little stronger. Maybe everything will turn out okay after all.
After eating and washing up, Alkara collapses on her bed, knowing that Sengmar is in the next room over, still working. She’d taken him a plate of food, but she’s pretty sure he hasn’t eaten it. He’d thanked her, of course. But then had gotten straight back to work.
And sure enough, in the pre-dawn light the next morning, Sengmar looks exhausted. And more nervous than Alkara wants him to look. They busy themselves helping him draw a complex circle that has other circles and lines connected to each other in ways Alkara can’t even begin to understand. Sengmar kneels down and begins scribing strange runes into the dirt. Uncle Iro takes a look at the sky and kneels next to Sengmar, “Here, let me help.”
Sengmar shakes his head without looking away from his work, “These aren’t druidic runes, I’m afraid–“
“Good thing I’m not a druid then.” Uncle Iro says with a small smile.
Sengmar hesitates, but then shakes his head again, “Apologies, but this work is extremely precise. How much time do I have left?”
Uncle Iro furrows his brow, but then decides to let the matter go. “Ten minutes.”
Sengmar swallows and tries to pick up his pace, but Alkara still isn’t sure it’s fast enough. She chews at her lip anxiously. Maybe she can talk to Caesyla again. Maybe she can convince her to give Senmgar just a little more time. They’re so close… she looks up at Uncle Iro, whose arms are crossed and brow still furrowed. Maybe he’s thinking the same thing…
“Hail, Lady Caesyla of the Tree of Faeries!” Sengmar calls out, interrupting Alkara’s thoughts.
One moment the air is empty, the next, Caesyla is there, surveying the scene, the fury still in her eyes. Alkara feels the ripples and waves of energy, but this time they don’t overwhelm her. Caesyla whips her head toward Sengmar, then points at one of the runes at her feet. Sengmar quickly moves over to examine the rune. “Ah. You have my gratitude lady, that would have been most unfortunate.” He quickly kneels down and adjusts the rune. “There. Are you ready?”
“IS SHE?”
Alkara and Uncle Iro look at Sengmar in question, who suddenly looks quite nervous. He turns to them, “Alkara, would you be so kind as to aid me in the ritual?”
“Me? Wouldn’t Uncle Iro–?”
Sengmar shakes his head, “For whatever reason, he doesn’t seem to be compatible.”
Uncle Iro narrows his eyes first at Sengmar and then at the dryad, “What do you need Alkara for, Caesyla?”
“A bridge.” Sengmar says quickly, “Alkara can reconnect Lady Caseyla with Urdima. Without it, Lady Caesyla’s madness will remain.”
“I can establish a connection with Urdima far more reliably than Alkara can.” Uncle Iro says firmly.
“YET YOU DID NOT.” Caesyla turns her furious gaze to Uncle Iro. “YOU CHOSE TO PROTECT YOURSELF RATHER THAN WITNESS THE TRUTH.”
“Hey! That’s not fair!” Alkara steps forward, her own anger sparking.
“Alkara,” Uncle Iro murmurs quietly, putting a hand on her shoulder. He turns her to look her in the eyes, searching and assessing. He presses his lips together firmly, “This is risky.”
“But… if I can help then I want to help.” Alkara says quietly, the small plea in her eyes.
Uncle Iro sighs and pulls her in for a hug, “I know young one.” Alkara hears him address Caesyla, his voice cutting with a hard edge, “You must swear that no harm will come to her.”
Sengmar nods, “I have reviewed the ritual dozens of times. If done correctly, she will be safe.”
Uncle Iro squeezes her one more time before letting her go. He puts his hands on her shoulders and looks her in the eyes, “Do not resist. It will only make this more taxing on you. Focus on allowing the flow of energy, no matter how strong it becomes. Do you understand?”
Alkara nods, offering a weak smile, then turns to Sengmar. “What do I do?”
Sengmar nods his thanks, then directs her to the runes she is to make contact with when Sengmar instructs her to. Uncle Iro moves to stand just a few paces behind her. Sengmar walks to his own runes, and directs Caesyla to the middle of the complex pattern inside the big circle.
“Ready?” Sengmar calls to Alkara.
“Ready!” She calls back, trying to swallow her anxiety, but all it does is form a big lump in her throat.
Sengmar kneels down, and Alkara thinks he probably made contact with his rune, because she feels a brief flash of heat from the circle. Her eyes widen as she sees what must be roots crawling and tracing the whole circle and the intricate pattern within. They even fill in the runes Sengmar had written out. The inside of the circle becomes a writhing mass of roots grasping at the wood, the nuts, and the saplings. Before Alkara’s eyes, the roots seem to break down, devour, and absorb everything in the circle. They begin to wrap up and around Caesyla, melding to one another and creating what starts to very much look like a tree trunk. Caesyla closes her eyes and lifts her hands skyward, her arms beginning to resemble the first branches of a young tree as the roots wrap around and blend together.
Alkara sucks in a quick breath as the earth begins to tremble beneath them and the trunk of the old tree begins to narrow and transform, growing to match the new tree that’s developing. More branches form. Leaves sprout and turn from green, to yellow, to orange, to red to brown, and fall. So too do beech nuts begin to form and fall. The fallen leaves and nuts are also absorbed by the writhing roots in the dirt at the base of the young beech tree. More leaves and nuts grow. Alkara stares in wonder.
Soon the pace of growth slows, and when the roots seem to sink beneath the ground and the dirt settles, Sengmar calls out, “Now!” Alkara has a spare moment to think that he sounds like he’s just run for miles before she places her hands on her runes, and then she has no space for thinking.
Don’t resist. Relax. Let the energy flow through you. You’re just the bridge, Alkara tries to remind herself. And even as her entire body tenses she feels her mind and spirit relax, and she witnesses something she doesn’t think she’ll ever forget.
She can see Caesyla, looking around as if lost, confused. Alkara almost gets up to help her before a panther appears and slowly pads up to Caesyla, looking up at her and cocking its head. Caesyla gasps with delight and kneels down to embrace the panther, which proceeds to lick Caesyla’s face and rub its face on her neck and shoulder. Alkara isn’t entirely sure what’s going on, but the relief and joy and rightness that floods through her makes her think that the ritual is working.
After a few moments of enjoying each other’s company, the panther looks at Alkara. It holds her gaze, green eyes to green eyes, for a few long moments before Alkara swears it looks pleased and smiles.
Alkara gasps and stands, the vision gone, and in front of her is a young beech tree. She knows Uncle Iro had been worried about the experience exhausting her, but she actually feels like she has more energy than she knows what to do with. She whips around to look at Uncle Iro, her eyes lit up with more than just the rising sun. “Uncle Iro! That was amazing! It worked! I saw Caesyla and then there was this panther and she was so happy to see the panther! Do you think that could have been Urdima?”
Uncle Iro watches her with a look of happy surprise, then chuckles, stepping forward to pull her into an embrace. “It’s certainly possible. The manifestations of Urdima are many. I’m just glad you’re alright. Now, let’s–” Uncle Iro stops as he looks up. He releases Alkara and rushes to Sengmar. His eyes dart across the prone mage as he performs some quick checks.
Alkara hurries to join them, but it’s clear that Sengmar is unconscious. Or… fear spikes through her as she considers the alternative, “Uncle Iro is he–?”
“He’s alive. I can feel his lifebeat, but it’s faint.” He looks up at the tree shaking his head a little, “That is some impressive magic. Especially for someone his age. And very draining. That it was an impromptu ritual made it even more difficult.” He looks back down and murmurs a few quick supplications to Urdima, and some color starts to come back to Sengmar’s skin, though his face still looks gaunt and drawn. Uncle Iro presses his lips together, then gently picks him up. “Alright, let’s get him back to the house. We’ll have to check in with Lady Caesyla later.”
“No need.” A soft, but hearty voice says as Caesyla steps out of her tree. She looks at Uncle Iro coolly, but then looks to Sengmar with great respect. “The young man may not have been able to deliver what he promised. My home is far from it’s former glory. But he gave much. As did the young lady.” Caesyla offers a small bow, “I am grateful. Please let the young man know that I wish to speak with him when he recovers, and that I will require further reparation from the humans who destroyed my home. Perhaps you can make yourself useful, Reäsin, as the young ones have done, and mediate that conversation.”
Alkara bristles again, but all Uncle Iro does is smile, “Yeah, I think maybe I can.”
Caesyla nods, bids them farewell, and then steps back into her tree.
Sengmar sleeps all day. While Uncle Iro takes Haverd and Pella out to talk to Caesyla, Alkara stays with Sengmar.
“Just in case he wakes up and needs anything!” Alkara says after Uncle Iro gives her a curious look.
When Uncle Iro returns, he looks exhausted. “I don’t envy the diplomats who have to do that all the time.” He says as he sinks down into a chair. “But at least that’s done. How is Sengmar doing?”
“He’s been asleep the whole time.” Alkara says, fidgeting.
Uncle Iro looks at her with another curious smile, “You’re fond of him.” It wasn’t a question. His smile fades after a few moments, “Be careful with this one Alkara.”
Alkara glances at him a little sharply, “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means he could bring trouble to us and our little family.”
Alkara furrows her brow, “I think he’d fit in pretty well with us, actually.”
Uncle Iro presses his lips together firmly, “Not this one Alkara. He’s not worth having a Ducal family breathing down our necks.”
Fear and fury cut through Alkara and she stands so quickly she knocks her chair over. Tears begin to gather in her eyes as she glares accusingly at her Uncle. “So, what? You’re gonna kick me out if you ever figure out who my old family was? If they cause you too much trouble, that’s the end of it?”
Uncle Iro just sighs, “I’m not afraid of your family Alkara, but this boy–“
“You know who my family is?” She cuts in sharply.
Uncle Iro looks at her with compassion, “Of course I know who your family is. Crooks, the lot. You’re better off without them. It’s one of the reasons I kept you.”
Alkara swallows, her fear giving way to her anger, “Then why can’t Sengmar stay with us? His family are crooks too.”
“But they’re dangerous crooks. I can almost guarantee you they’ve been watching him. Especially since it seems like his story might actually be true. Not to mention his connection to the Summer Court. It’s bad news Alkara and we don’t need that trouble.”
“So if my family had turned out to be a threat? You would have turned me out?” Alkara challenges, crossing her arms.
Uncle Iro purses his lips, “Of course not.”
“Why not?”
“Alkara–“
“Why. Not?” She asks again tightly.
Uncle Iro releases a short sigh, “Because by the time I figured out who your family was, you were mine.”
Alkara can’t help but feel extremely pleased at his answer, but she does her best not to show it. “Sengmar deserves a chance.” She insists. “At least as long as I got. I’m not afraid of his family or this ‘Summer Court’—”
Uncle Iro chuckles, “That’s because you don’t know anything about either of them.”
Alkara flushes with embarrassment but pushes forward, “He still deserves a chance. He deserves a family. And I think he belongs with us.”
Uncle Iro sighs, leans back in his chair, and crosses his arms, watching Alkara appraisingly. Alkara glares defiantly back at him. After a few long moments that feel more like hours to Alkara, he finally smirks at her and gestures for her to come hug him. Alkara’s face splits into a grin and she dashes into his arms, hugging him tightly.
“Two years, young one. And if I decide he needs to go, you’ll need to make your peace with it, alright?”
Alkara nods, “You won’t. You’ll see. Sengmar belongs with us.”
Uncle Iro snorts. “You’re probably right. But we’ll see.”
“You’ll see.”