Falls

by Melinda Kucsera

  Visiting the Queen Tree

  The moaning came from above, so Sarn loped to the top of the rise. He skidded to a halt and almost fell to his knees in horror. Once proud trees writhed on the ground for several miles then the destruction hooked to the east.

  “Papa, who did this?”

  The sight injected fear into Sarn’s heart. Not even a demon had managed to lay such trees so low. Nothing natural could have caused such laser focused devastation. The track widened at a regular rate as it ascended the next ridge as if its cause had strengthened. Was it darker to the northeast than it was here?

  As Sarn started down the grade, only one explanation leaped to mind. “Black lumir, someone must have stolen some crystals from the Ægeldar. No, not someone—Dirk. I saw his symbol earlier.” Sarn wracked his memory. What was Dirk’s heading then? He’d only had a glimpse of the conman’s icon during that revelatory conversation with his sister.

  “But wouldn’t it have hurt him?”

  “Maybe it doesn’t affect the non-mage gifted.”

  Ran nodded though he didn’t buy that explanation, and neither did Sarn. It was plausible, but not if you lived in a country full of magic. Some of that power must have infected Dirk.

  Maybe it was like drawing poison from a wound when the black lumir crystal sucked it out. But that didn’t explain why nothing between the Ægeldar and here was touched. They’d passed plenty of still-ensorcelled trees.

  “Or maybe he found a way to render it safe to carry.” Sarn nodded as that reasoning fit the facts better than any other, and Ran nodded too. He took care not to step on any of the branches or roots of the wounded trees he passed.

  “But how’d he make it safe?”

  “That I don’t know, but I know someone who does.”

  “The Queen Tree?”

  “Yeah, I’ve been wondering how she slapped a shield over a chasm full of black lumir crystals and kept it standing.”

  Ran blinked as if the idea hadn’t even occurred to him. “She can do anything.”

  “Yes, she can,” Sarn said as he crouched beside a boot print.

  It bore none of the indentations of the sturdy, thick-soled boots favored by hikers. So, whoever had passed this way wasn’t shod for a lengthy walk nor prepared to climb Mount Kyleth sixteen miles northeast of here. Nor were there any hoof prints or wheel ruts, so this traveler wasn’t going far not shod in soft-soled boots.

  Sarn cast about and discovered a dozen more sets of prints. Two sets were narrower and smaller than the others. Likely they were made by women’s boots. Who were these people and why were they following in Dirk’s wake?

  Was Dirk felling the enchanted trees? That didn’t make sense. Dirk didn’t strike me as the outdoorsy type and there’s no profit to be made out here. No, Dirk had tested the black lumir crystal here then sold it to someone else—the person who’d appeared as two black pentacles superimposed over each other.

  Sarn pulled up his map, but it ended at the outer circle of menhirs. Everything inside it, including Mount Eredren, was a nice coin-shaped blank, thanks to those annoying menhirs. Outward from this spot was more nothing because when Nolo took him on patrols, they stuck to the river. Nolo sent other Rangers this far inland.

  Sarn blew out an exasperated breath. Sometimes sharing headspace with a map was more trouble than it was worth.

  Ran poked him. “What’d you find?”

  “Hmm? I’m just trying to work out what happened. Give me a minute to get it all straight in my head then I’ll explain.”

  “You better.”

  Sarn smiled at his son’s adorable threat and refocused on those troubling blank spots on his map. I could fix them. Sarn regarded the dark earth between gray, lifeless branches. His magic recoiled and shook its luminous head. It wanted no part of what was happening. That left only one recourse. He must track that party down and question them. That shouldn’t be hard given the clear tracks they’d left behind.

  Ran tapped Sarn on the shoulder. “Now what are you doing?”

  “Nothing, my magic doesn’t feel like cooperating. I’ve learned all I can from this.” Sarn gestured to the boot prints and explained his findings to his interested son.

  “How did you know all that?”

  “The Rangers, I work for them, and they’re often sent to find people in here.” Sarn shrugged. “They taught me to read the trails and the clues people leave behind.” His troubled gaze fell to the downed trees, and Sarn pushed to his feet. Some of them were still moving. Their blackened bark called to him.

  Help us—eam’maya rayar! Help us curse breaker.

  Sarn stumbled toward them. Magic flared around his extended hand in white and green tongues of light that licked the air.

  “Why would anyone want to hurt the trees?” Ran gripped his pant leg.

  The sudden movement broke the felled trees’ enchantment. Sarn blinked then caught his son’s arm before Ran could make like his nickname.

  “Because bad people want power over others. So, they take that power by hurting other creatures. It’s called subjugation, and it’s wrong. It’s never right to hurt someone just because you can.”

  “Why do they want power?”

  “Everyone’s afraid of something, but some people can’t handle that. So, they strive to be invincible, but being feared just makes them vulnerable because there’s no one they can turn to when they need help.”

  “What are you afraid of?”

  “Losing you, but I won’t let that happen.” Sarn squeezed his son’s hand.

  “I don’t want to lose you either.” Ran squeezed back.

  But the trees were calling again, and their pleas propelled Sarn down the slope.

  White light shot up from the ground in front of Sarn as he skidded to a halt. The Queen of All Trees appeared and swung a branch between them blocking his path. Her luminous roots spread out entwining with her stricken children. As she stroked their blackened bark, her silver fire plunged into the downed trees lighting them up and driving out the evil that had felled them.

  “It’s the Queen Tree!” Ran struggled to free his hand.

  “I know. Stay by my side.”

  “What’s she doing?”

  “I think she’s healing them,” Sarn said, then addressed his next question to the Queen of All Trees. “A black lumir crystal did this. I can feel the theft—the lack of magic.” He told her what he’d reasoned out. But when he finished, she said nothing.

  Keeping her massive trunk between him and her fallen brethren, she ministered to her injured children as if he hadn't spoken at all. When Ran reached out to pat her silver bark, she didn’t pause her work. There was something off about her other than her height. Instead of her usual thousand feet, she stood only about a hundred and twenty-five-feet tall, and the difference was jarring. But it was more than that. Her trunk was thinner; her aura was muted, and her bark was dull.

  “Are you all right?”

  She didn't answer. Sarn let the silence stretch on, hoping she'd break it. She didn't, but Ran did.

  “I’m hungry. Do you have any more All-Fruit? I like them.”

  That finally dragged a response out of her. A silver root, as wide as a fist, poked out of the ground. It reached into the trees standing sentinel around their fallen siblings and returned with a branch bearing three pieces of All-Fruit. The red, super-sized apples were a staple in Shayari because there were thousands of cultivars growing all over the enchanted forest. This one was the size of a melon and likely sweet too.

  “Thank you!” Ran accepted the gift and bit into one of the augmented apples then he glanced around for water to wash it down.

  The Queen of All Trees guessed his need before Sarn did and pointed to a brook flowing nearby. Ran ambled over and stuck his head in leaving Sarn holding two pieces of All-Fruit and a ton of unanswered questions.

  “Eat, Papa. Lunch was a long time ago.”

  Feeling eyes on him, Sarn sighed and took a bite. In minutes, he’d polis
hed off both All-Fruit and deposited their cores into the waiting hole. Ran dropped his core in too and smiled up at the Queen of All Trees, who’d watched them partake if the simple meal she’d offered.

  “Thank you again. The All-Fruit were good.”

  The Queen of All Trees dipped her crown acknowledging his son’s thanks. Maybe she’d be more amenable to questions now.

  “Yes, they were. Thank you.” Sarn ground the toe of his boot into the churned-up earth. “Why won’t you tell me what’s happening? I’ve figured out some of it, but I know there’s more at stake.”

  Could she speak? Had he imagined her speaking to him a month ago? No, he hadn’t. So then, she didn’t want him involved in this. Well, it was too late for that. “I can’t stand by and do nothing.” Sarn clenched his fists. “I’m not built that way.”

  “Me either.” Ran struck a defiant pose with one chubby fist planted on his outthrust hip.

  Jerlo would know what to do. The commander needed to know something had cut a swath of destruction through the forest. From where Sarn stood, he could feel it. The land was drained of magic. And the magic inside him wrapped itself tighter around his heart.

  Get away from here. Flee, his magic urged, but Sarn ignored it and regarded his silent Queen.

  “I’ll find a way to stop this. You can’t stop me from trying.”

  “Yes, she can,” J.C. said as he topped the rise and ambled down to them. He nodded to the Queen of All Trees, who stiffened when she saw him.

  Gone was the twisted crown and the blood, but the gouges in his scalp remained and he walked hunched over from the weight of his cross. Sarn extended a hand to take some of its weight, but a branch captured his wrist and J.C. shook his head.

  “Thank you for the offer, but this is my burden to bear. You have your own and she has hers.”

  Sarn opened his mouth but no sound emerged as cold slid down his captured arm. Light curled around him and his frozen son and everything went white. Not again.

  J.C. met the eyeless gaze of the most massive tree he’d ever seen. The Queen of All Trees swelled up to her full thousand-foot height still holding the curse breaker and his son cradled in her arms. Of course, both had been rendered momentarily insensible, so they could talk.

  “Lady of the Green Wood, I mean neither you nor yours any harm. I didn’t know the curse breaker belonged to you.”

  She hadn’t marked him in any way. The old powers were long gone. Why did she linger still? What was happening in Shayari?

  J.C. waited but she made no reply, so he went on. “Put him down. He and I struck a bargain. He’s to take me into the mountain. After that, he can go his own way. I won’t—” he broke off as a black beam cracked the sky and whipped the clouds into a vortex that tore at her crown.

  She ducked down and curled her trunk around her precious charges to protect them as her height halved, then halved again and again, until she stood no taller than fifty-feet above the ground. She lay the curse breaker and his son down on a blanket of shimmering leaves.

  The beam faded, but the clouds continued to churn, and the wind tore at his garments.

  “What is that?”

  Might there be a greater evil than the Adversary afoot? But how could there be? What was more dangerous than the devil himself? J.C. staggered as the devil did something to make the cross become heavier again. Blood bloomed on his palms as his sacred wounds reopened. He looked from them to her.

  “Pray you never find out, Son of Man. Take the Child of Magic and his son and go. Keep them inside the mountain and pray its defenses hold. I’m entrusting my hopes and dreams for the future to you.”

  “I don’t understand what’s happening, but that’s the joy of not being omniscient.” J.C. sighed, but he knew she understood. He could tell by the tilt of her crown—was that a sylvan nod?

  Her branches flashed in a complex pattern. Part of her white aura peeled off and wove around Sarn and his son. J.C. stepped into its heart to hitch a ride on her transport spell, grateful he didn’t need to cast one himself. Because he wasn’t certain he could. Maintaining the balance which kept the world spinning took all his concentration.

  After things with the Adversary are settled, if there’s another tragedy unfolding like the one under Mount Eredren, I’ll find this graceful queen and help her put a stop to it whether she wants my help or not. After all, he too had free will.

  He opened his mouth to say as much, but her light enfolded them, and the world disappeared into a white tongue of soul-cleansing flame.

  Ghosts and Golems

  Avenge me, said the wind, echoing her dead sister’s plea.

  The ghosts of those the Wild Hunt had slain ringed Aralore, and their cold hands tugged her robes. Orange blurs moved passed her—they were her acolytes, of course, but where were they going?

  The Wild Hunt roamed the deep forest. By now they’d already lured this year's crop of lovers far from the centers of habitation where they could fatten them up for the winter hunt.

  “Come, sinner, to your dark Father fly. At my side, thy time is nigh.”

  Don’t listen to him. Avenge us.

  Get out of my head! Aralore opened the box, and a black beam cleaved the heaven’s blue vault then it fanned out, dropping her acolytes to the ground. Gray shapes sped toward the black gem gorging itself on energy. One such ghost bore her face—it was Ayoma—and her sister was spiraling into the black lumir crystal.

  “No!” Aralore reached for the mirrored lid and froze when it cracked lengthwise, marring the mirrored finish.

  Ayoma’s face was frozen in a rictus of horror as she extended both her translucent hands to Aralore, but she couldn’t catch hold of her sister. Their hands passed right through each other when Aralore stepped into that expanding cone of darkness. Then she was falling, and the black lumir crystal was draining her too. With shaking hands, she reached up and knocked the box down.

  It landed on its side on the ground facing Mount Eredren, and its black beam shot toward that eyesore. Mount Eredren was too far away for it to reach that benighted place, but not for long.

  Aralore blinked. With the black lumir crystal exposed to the air, she no longer felt any urge to go back to Mount Eredren. The voices were gone, and so too were the ghosts.

  “Ayoma? Sis?”

  No answer, no cold hand touched her arm—her sister was gone, but a giant black bird circled the mountain’s peak. This is your fault, she thought as she slid the cracked lid over the opening, cutting the black beam in half then in half again. But it resisted. The lid struck something hard—the crystal had expanded. Its top poked out of the box, and the lid was caught on it!

  I can't close the box. Aralore stared at it as her acolytes helped each other up.

  “What just happened? There was an insistent voice inside my mind, and it wasn’t our Lord’s.” Velor rubbed the bridge of his aquiline nose.

  “Did it tempt you to go down into the pit?” Somnya massaged her temples.

  “If you heard it too then it wasn’t a hallucination.” Velor gripped his hilt and pivoted seeking the speaker.

  “I heard it too,” Aralore said. “It cut out when I opened the box. Not even the devil is immune to this gem.”

  She smiled down at it but took care to keep the mirrored lid angled so it reflected those nullifying black rays away from her and her people. How much longer would that flimsy protection hold?

  Aralore examined the box and frowned at a hairline fracture along one side. It sucked at her finger, numbing it as she slid her thumb along the crack—not good, but not all bad either since she intended to use the stone.

  “I take it that thing is the reason for the voice.” Velor shaded his eyes and pointed at a creature flying around Mount Eredren’s peak.

  Aralore nodded. “That’s my guess.”

  Velor gave the box, and the gem peeking out of it, a calculating glance. “We need a cart or some way of rolling this to our destination or—I’ve got an idea,” he said as he p
icked up the branches he’d cut off the formerly enchanted tree they’d interrogated. “Who brought a rope?”

  “I did.” One of the newer acolytes pulled a coil of it out of his rucksack. What was his name—Harl? Hellion? Holkson? “Begging your pardon, Preceptor, but shouldn’t we head back? The Prelate should arrive soon.”

  “He’s right, and there’s that unnatural thing we should destroy.” Somnya gestured to Mount Eredren, but her gaze fell on the half-closed box. “Can we move it?”

  Velor uncoiled the rope. “If we lash together some branches, we can make a crude litter and position the box, so its rays are deflected away from us. Preceptor?”

  Aralore nodded. “Do it. We need to destroy the Wild Hunt, but that creature is the more immediate danger. I won’t let one holy quest get in the way of another, and Harl is right. The Prelate should arrive soon. We must be there to greet him.”

  “Give me an hour and we can be on our way—less if I can get a few helpers.” Velor threaded the rope under a branch. Somnya moved to help him, but Aralore remained where she sat, still searching the sky and everything below it for her sister’s shade.

  Why didn’t Ayoma pass on? Why didn’t she go to you, Lord? I pray for her soul every night. Why didn’t you take her into your care?

  Silence reigned as unspoken questions caromed around her mind, and for the first time since joining the Seekers, cracks developed in her faith.

  When her light faded, they faced the outer circle of standing stones. No, not again, Sarn regarded Mount Eredren’s bent cone. Her snow cap sparkled in the westering sun as if nothing untoward had happened. Sarn shook off his unease. It was lack of sleep putting strange thoughts into his head.

  He whirled and stared at a line of trees standing trunk-to-trunk leaving no space between them, but they were still enchanted. Magic coursed through their veins, still vibrant, still untouched by the black lumir crystal’s kiss.

  “Why won’t you let me help?”

  They didn’t bat a single branch at his question. J.C. laid a warm hand on his shoulder.