Tree Dungeon

by Andrew Karevik

  “What he said,” Zepher agreed, shaking her head. “Whatever is going on, it’s way above my pay grade.”

  “You are not released from your obligations yet,” I told them. “But you have a time of reprieve. Rest for a time. I must consult with Ehdrid alone.”

  Zepher groaned and Immix chuckled at the words. But even though he was attempting to stay jolly, I could read the concern on his face. What he had seen was not something to laugh about. His attempts at humor were purely to keep up with his cultural role of trickster. He was afraid.

  Chapter 36

  Discussion of this strange Invasion that was beginning to take place led me down many paths of thought. While Immix and Zepher had discovered quite a bit of information, it still wasn’t enough. How many of these dread beings were near me? Near my forest? I imagined a wave of those terrible little monsters stalking the woods, attacking and slaying anything they could find. The wildlife, annihilated. The adventurers who came to me, slain before they could reach me. Even the little temple of Agara would be overrun.

  And what if they were to find their way within me? I had defenses, but not enough to protect the goblin village from a swarm. Something deep within me knew that these creatures were going to become a problem. Whether this knowledge was simply intuition or part of my divine nature, I did not know. But I began to prepare.

  Ehdrid’s counsel on the matter was wise. We would send Immix into the Ethereal Mass of Dreams, to walk over to the Feverwood. He would count the number of Invaders that he saw. This would at least give me an idea of what I was to prepare for. Ehdrid also suggested that I speak to the gods about such a matter. The nature of these creatures meant they were hidden from divinations and scrying magic. My testimony, he urged, would at the very least alert these great powers about what was on its way.

  I would hold court for the gods soon enough, but I wanted to ensure that I was safe before speaking to them. Should I agitate one of them, they may seek to hurt me and I could do nothing about it. If I were to go into a discussion with them, I would need to know that I was protected from their power.

  Immix was sent into the Dream Realm and Zepher was instructed to head into Oregmyer and speak with the king, to tell him all of what she had seen. Then, she was to head to King Soren’s homelands, to the capital of Restar. A sealed scroll would be delivered to the king, and then she would return to her own gnome capital to warn them. But I had not released her from my service yet. According to Immix’s report, she was skilled at speaking to others and gaining information. The fact that she had managed to get the Followers of the Deep to share their research with her was a minor miracle, especially when they were just looking for victims to test on.

  I could not afford to lose such a pivotal person in my employ just yet. And to her credit, when she realized that I would be using her to warn many countries of the danger that was to come, she saw it as her duty. Without telling her, I resolved to pay her double what had been offered. When she was finally able to retire at home, she would start a new chapter in the gnomish empire.

  I also began to produce great quantities of my special poison. Known as Deathvine, it was specially designed to kill any biological entity as quickly as possible. The poison would attack the brain, stop the heart and then the lungs. It was infused with just a tiny portion of my own essence, not enough to subtract any power from me, but enough to be foreign to any natural or magical defenses. I had first created that poison to block off the goblin villages, endowing my own energy as a symbol of my protection. But now, I wondered if it was my essence that allowed the poison to harm the Invader.

  Either way, I would create enough to protect the goblin village, the orc tribes and Oregmyer. Even the priestesses of Agara would receive a shipment from me. These parties outside of my walls were not of my concern, and I could have just as easily ignored helping them. But, I had called myself the World Tree. Many spoke to me as if that was my role. While I did not owe anything to these people in terms of politics, war or religion, I felt a duty to aid them if some other entities were coming to bring them destruction. If it was in my power to render assistance to those in need, those who lived underneath my leaves and branches, then I should do so.

  Or at least, that was what I had told Ehdrid. But the truth was, deep down, I was worried that this Invasion had found the realm because of my presence. I had not chosen to come here, of course, but when my Mother Tree sent me out, I tunneled my way through so many realms until I was brought to a suitable one. That thin strand of disruption in the dimension, it may have created a pathway large enough for these creatures to crawl through.

  All the reports of these creatures began to surface weeks after I had spotted the first Invader trying to escape its ethereal prison. I had been the first to see one. What if it had been a scout, following my path here? Had I, in the mere act of being planted, brought on some greater nightmare to this land? If so, I must take responsibility of the consequences of my arrival. I would figure some way out to repel these Invaders. That is, if they ever figured out a way to surface. Without intervention from the mages, how long would it take for them to break out of their cocoons? Had they been trapped by the Ethereal Realm, not realizing there were multiple realms around Yehan? Only time would answer these questions.

  A whooping and hollering distracted me from my thoughts of Invasion. Five horses came running towards me as fast as they could—behind them, a phantasm of sorts, the shape of an angry spectral woman shrieking and wielding a burning sword. The thieves had returned, and it appeared they had a guest.

  “Kill it, kill it, kill it!” screamed Turuk, the lead thief. The phantasm screamed in rage as it slashed the blade at his back, trying to kill him as quickly as possible. I obliged and released a wave of dispersing energy, designed to repel any entity that was incorporeal. The ghost faded as soon as it made contact with the banishing spell.

  “See! Told you we would make it,” Sorna Lang said, laughing as she leapt from her horse and pulled a bag that glowed with an unbelievable divine energy. It belonged to Agara and the presence of power was overwhelming. The mortals, however, did not seem to notice the power radiating from the scrolls within. Instead, Sorna Lang merely whistled and slung the bag over her shoulder as if she were carrying nothing more than a sack of grain.

  They had done it? They had managed to steal the sacred scrolls from Agara’s temple? To be honest, I was shocked to see them return so quickly. It had been my expectation that only a few would return, and after months. It had only been two weeks.

  “So, long story short,” Turuk said, looking up at me, “we managed to get our hands on the scrolls of Agara. It was weird, but the scrolls were unguarded. It was harder to get out of the Great Temple than it was to get in. Especially since all those phantasms appeared the moment we swiped the damn things.”

  I did not care about the great adventure they had. I was merely concerned with the content of those scrolls. They stayed the night and were properly rewarded with food and drink for their first success. Then, they set out to steal more documents.

  In truth, the scrolls of the Mistmother and Eflora were meaningless to me. But if multiple scrolls were stolen within a short period of time, it would sow confusion amongst the gods. Glym had covered me with a powerful silence spell, that would shield me from investigation on a divine level, at least for a time. And, by stealing Agara’s scrolls first, I knew she would most likely begin to accuse other gods of treachery first. The additional thefts would only cause more contention between them. And with three major gods being robbed, and two safe, all eyes would turn on Emerhilk and Turm. Both of whom could not suffer insults to their character very well.

  The scrolls were placed in a sacred spot within the library, meant to hold divine energy in place. The goblins who transported them ignored the power radiating from each parchment, almost as if it were nothing. But to me, it was as if I was planted too close to the sun. It burned me greatly at first, but over the cours
e of a few days, I began to tolerate the pain a little more.

  The words within the scrolls did not want to be read either. As soon as I turned my gaze upon them, they began to jump around and scramble themselves into languages that did not exist or were too foreign for my understanding. I tried to use my magic to control them, but they did not wish to comply with my power.

  Still, a mortal had no problem reading the words. Ehdrid sat and carefully transcribed all of the words from the scrolls, so that I could use them. But upon finishing the translation of the first scroll, the old scroll turned to dust. The new scroll began to glow with the power, and once again they were scrambling themselves, refusing to allow me to read them.

  Ehdrid explained that it must be because of my divine nature. Since I had no actual “eyes” but instead saw everything within me through magic, it would count as using magic to learn about the gods. I considered sprouting physical eyes for a time, but Ehdrid saved me the trouble by opting instead to simply read to me.

  Agara’s secrets were curious and alarming. At once, I knew that my gamble had paid off. As Ehdrid, in somewhat of a confused state, read the secrets that only the highest members of the Hierarchy would know, I soaked in all the knowledge. There was quite a bit of information that filled in the gaps of what I knew about her already.

  Ehdrid did not have access to the whole picture, so he did not know why I was so pleased with what I was hearing. I felt no need to inform him, either. The first scroll contained the entire true history of Agara. It dispelled many myths about her creation, her control of the domains and the conflicts she had been involved in. The second scroll spoke about her tenants, the very rules and laws that she was bound to. It turned out that controlling a domain of the world did not simply give the god power over that domain, rather it shaped the very personality of that god.

  This explained why Glym was dual natured. She had power over trade and thievery, but these two things were at such odds that they forced her to split into two separate identities, each controlling the same powers. If she had only control of the one domain, she would be a singular individual.

  Some gods chose to integrate their domains and godspells into their personalities, adopting them into rigorous belief structures. Those who opted instead to allow conflicting domains and concepts to fight one another, they would often end up chaotic and unstable.

  The third scroll spoke all about the power that Agara could give her followers. It contained the godspells that she knew, the types of prayers she was allowed to answer, and the benefits those who worshipped her would receive. It was during this final reading session that Ehdrid finally figured out that something was amiss about Agara. For on the list of prayers that she could answer was the ability to grant her followers the power to kill those who were unbelievers. A strange power for a goddess of mercy and healing to have, isn’t it?

  Chapter 37

  My preparations for dealing with Agara were almost finished when I was visited by yet another god. This was not a surprise, of course. I had been expecting that he would turn up sooner or later. He was the god that the others whispered about in fear. The one Turm was worried I would make friends with. Jepner, the god of death.

  The sky turned red when his avatar manifested in front of me. He looked to be a large pile of bones, with a single orc skull atop it. An axe was sticking out of the orc skull and fiery red eyes lit up the sockets.

  “Friend tree,” Jepner addressed me, elongating each word that he said. “It is nice to finally meet you. You who have sent so many to their death. But they died valiantly, didn’t they? Oh, forget that all they wanted was treasure for booze and whores. You gave them a heroic death, many many times.”

  “Do you mean to insult my work?”

  The bone pile rattled at that. “Don’t ask me how to take my words. People get offended no matter what I say,” Jepner replied. “After all, I represent the true power of evil, death!”

  “You are not evil, but inevitable,” I replied.

  “Ahhhhh, so you understand?” Jepner said. “Truly I am honored to be known by you.”

  I knew a great deal about Jepner. He was just as powerful as the Greater Five Gods, but he was not worshipped by many mortals. His power came from the fact that all souls who died were forced to pass into his control for a time. He would then sift through them, sorting them and sending each soul to their respective afterlives—if he so judged them worthy. Sometimes he would send a soul he deemed unworthy into the underworld. Sometimes he would turn them into devils to serve him for a time.

  The mortals and gods all deemed his actions to be evil and unnecessary. He insisted that he was well within his right to ensure that mortals lived responsibly. One of his core tenants was “Live well and die well.” Those who did not follow those rules of his were toyed with for a time, until their respective god could intervene. He was an antagonist of a god and had few friends, save for the cruel and more barbaric deities.

  “Just strike your bargain that I may reject it,” I replied. I had no strong feelings about the deity but knew better than to be perceived as a friend of his. My relationship with the other gods would immediately sour if they knew I was friendly with an enemy as great as he.

  “Aww, you have judged me all the same as the so-called greater gods,” Jepner said, his bones beginning to slither in place, forming a large serpent with the skull as the head. The serpent leaned up to look at me. “But look at your wound. And the souls of those who I was all too happy to send to your realm when they died.”

  “You had no choice in the matter. I drew them in,” I replied.

  This sparked laughter from Jepner. “Oh, not at all. Any soul who dies is mine, as is the power of death. But the orcs who entered into your realm died well. I respect that. Yet, do not think I could not close your afterlife with a snap of my fingers.”

  “Speak your bargain then,” I replied.

  “Fine, fine, all to business now. You have the scrolls of Agara. I want them. Give them to me and I shall be a friend in time of need. They will not hack off your limbs again.”

  Friendship was fickle in a world where power could shift so radically. I would not look to some other power to grant me a boon or a favor. My protection would be of my own accord. But still, I was curious as to why Jepner wanted the scrolls. He had no reason to compete with the other gods; after all, he would never gain more followers than he currently had.

  “And you wish them for what reason?”

  Jepner’s skull turned from side to side, sweeping around the room as if looking for spies. “Because I know a little secret,” he whispered. “And I suspect that you know it too.”

  This was an interesting turn of events. “And you wish the scrolls to confirm your thoughts?”

  “My designs are my own. Will you turn them over to me?”

  “No,” I replied. “But perhaps you could serve me in this moment.”

  “Oh, and what is it that you wish of me?” Jepner asked.

  “You would call forth a meeting of all deities and stand by my side as I speak to them,” I replied. “And in return, you shall bear the credit for what I will say.”

  Jepner chuckled. “You are rolling the dice. It’s far safer to just give me what knowledge you have uncovered and take my friendship.”

  “I prefer to take the risk,” I said.

  “Very well,” Jepner said. “I shall grant you a boon, and a further one, to keep my name out of the mix. You should not be associated with me if you don’t want my friendship.”

  “And for what reason do you afford me such a kindness?” I asked.

  Jepner chuckled. “It’s just nice to see someone finally shake things up in the divine kingdom. I shall call forth for a moot. They will gather within the week.”

  Jepner began to slither off into the distance. He paused for a moment and looked at me. “Oh, Great Tree? Do be careful when speaking to them. Since you don’t worship a god, your dead spirit would
be allllll mine. And you wouldn’t want that, would you?”

  Jepner left me alone to continue in my planning. To my consideration. Everything before me was so clear now. Jepner’s interest in getting a hold of the scrolls indicated that my suspicions about Agara were true. Agara was not who she was claiming to be, not in the least.

  I first became suspicious of her nature when I began reading on the history of her church. For the first twenty thousand years of her reign as a major goddess, her church was a grassroots, free spirited organization. There were no hierarchies mandated, no high priests or priestesses. Just people who were inspired to bring healing to the world. One did not need to follow or even to have Agara’s favor, for she was kind and merciful.

  Then there was a great war in the realm of the gods, as happens from time to time. Agara was grievously injured by a powerful weapon wielded by a jealous deity who wished to get his hands on her power over life. His name was Izguril, god of lies and deception. He would die in the war, as the story went. From there, Agara, wounded and known as the Bitter and Broken, changed in her personality entirely.

  A reformation in the church happened and she became more organized. Her people were called to follow a strict list of tenants in order to receive her benefits and, worse yet, only those who followed her would obtain any form of healing or mercy. This led her to gain millions upon millions of followers in a short amount of time, as mortals were too reliant on her power in the past. They could not see a way of living without her blessings.

  What I gleaned from one of Agara’s scrolls was the immediacy of the reformation. It would seem the moment that Izguril and his allies were defeated, Agara set these rules into place. Many believed that she was simply changed from the process of almost being destroyed, but when I looked at all the pieces with a higher perspective, I could see the truth clear as day. Agara wasn’t Agara. Izguril, somehow, through either trickery or a godspell meant to control the deity’s avatar, was posing as her. At least, that was my theory.