Tree Guardian

by Andrew Karevik

  As the Akr Army made their way to the entrance to the castle, they were met with a small detachment of mercenaries who had been hired to aid the insurrectionists in their quest.

  “Oy!” shouted the leader of the group of twenty. “What’s this then?”

  “I believes that they are undead and whatnot,” another mercenary said, taking out a torch and lighting it. “But they fear fire!”

  Of course, my warriors feared nothing—they had no sense of self and were little more than automatons who did as instructed. They did not react to the frenzied waving of the newly lit torches from the mercenary guard. Once it was apparent that this would turn into a serious fight, they were quick to drop their torches and draw their weapons.

  “Hold the line until backup arrives!” the leader shouted as they moved into formation. But from my perspective, high above the city, I could see that no backup was coming. Word had ushered in through the castle that an undead army had arrived, and I saw many of the guards and peasants flee from their posts.

  Most cities in Yehan did not enjoy standing armies, for they were often too expensive to maintain. Rather, they would rely upon raising a militia to fight, or hiring professional mercenaries to serve the needs of a city. A militia was handy when it came to overwhelming an enemy with numbers, but they did not have the discipline or the training to handle serious threats. My little army was more than enough to remind them of the fact that, before today, they had been bean farmers, potters and school teachers.

  “Is this your idea of an army?” the queen asked once the throne room had been secured. I had melted away the rocks, allowing her to see the horrors that were lined up for her to inspect.

  “They are strong, obedient and unyielding,” I explained. “They will do as I demand, for they have no sense of free will.” At that moment, my mind flashed to the words of Yim. The dragon had said the same about the Invaders. They were thoughtless, devouring creatures, but seemed to be directed by a singular intelligence. I had inadvertently copied my upcoming foe. I took note of this, to dwell on later.

  “And utterly horrific, they are,” Queen Abri said, shaking her head as she inspected the devastated throne room. Once word had gotten out about a loyal army here to enforce the law, the remaining peasant militia had been quick to tear the place apart, taking anything of value. “I worked so hard to build trust with these people, and in an instant Leo threw it all away. When you pronounce judgment on someone, Great Tree, make sure that you are not condemning yourself also.”

  “Wise words,” I said. I noticed that some of the rabble in the street was beginning to loot some of the more expensive shops. A small detachment of my army moved towards this disturbance, shrieking warnings of grave punishment for such a crime.

  “But this isn’t the worst thing that can happen,” the queen murmured. “Holding the throne by my own will be tricky, but I can manage. As long as these horrors are here to aid me.”

  “They will serve until you can raise a force that will support you. But do not grow dependent upon them,” I replied. “You have a month.”

  Queen Abri nodded, gazing upwards to where she believed I was speaking from. “You are most kind for your aid of me. I will repay this kindness someday, of that I promise.”

  “Just get the city in order and keep the adventurers coming my way,” I replied. “For we have far less time than you may believe.”

  Chapter 21

  The many nobles who had been thrown into my dungeon were released, the curse lifted from them. Most of them hitched rides with an outgoing shipment headed to another major city while others chose to walk back to the city in the hopes of retrieving some heirlooms that were no doubt already stolen.

  The former King Leosis, however, was not among the people who were set free. I had reflected for a time as to his actions. He had been strictly informed that he was not to put civilians in my dungeon, and while he had technically abided by those rules, he had used me as a threat against the innocent. I thought long about these peasants who were living in terror at the prospect of being cast inside of me. I thought about the fear that a mother would have, that she would be taken away from her kids for refusing to pay an oppressive tax.

  Adventurers did not fear me. They embraced what I had to offer; they enjoyed the action and danger of throwing themselves in a dungeon. We had a mutual relationship in a sense: they would try to take my treasure, and I would try to take their raw essence. The very idea of people staying up at night, fearful of my influence, angered me greatly. How dare Leosis do such a thing? He would be punished for his crimes against me, of that I was certain.

  The disgraced king was sitting alone on a bench outside of Sorana’s Savories—a food shop that the goblin workers liked to frequent. I could read the worry written upon his face as he buried his head in his hands. He knew that the truth had come to light, especially when the rest of the nobles were allowed to depart.

  “You have disgraced my name,” I whispered to him. “I am the World Tree, friend to all mortals on the surface. I watch over them, I care for them. Those who enter my mouth are those who are hearty enough to deal with a challenge. They relish the opportunity for wealth and plunder. But you have used the name of the Feverwood Dungeon to strike fear in the hearts of those who have nothing to fear from me.”

  “Must you go through this?” Leosis groaned. “I know that I have committed an error. I know that you will execute me. Just strike me down with your magics. I am ready to leave this world.”

  “Death?” I said. “Why would I kill you?”

  “Why would you bother to spare me?” he said with a weary sigh. “Besides, I have nothing left. My wife betrayed me, the people cast me out. I have disgraced my father with my weakness.”

  “And what do you believe your weakness was?” I asked.

  Leosis paused at those words. He tilted his head up and stroked his chin. “I was not harsh enough on my enemies. I did not command the respect of my guard. I let the people fall in love with the queen who would turn against me.”

  “You have no capacity for introspection, you fool,” I chided. “Your harshness was what landed you here. Your wife did not turn against you, she was spared because the people saw her as more respectable than you.”

  Leosis said nothing. I felt the heat of rage overcome me as I watched this pathetic man wallow in his own failures. His mistake had angered me, but his inability to reflect and truly find where he failed angered me even more. I knew in that moment that I would not punish him merely for the sake of keeping my word. I would punish him in a way that would teach him humility.

  “Can you read?” I asked.

  “What?”

  “Can you read letters?”

  Leosis scoffed at such a question. “Of course, I am an educated man. My father sent me to the Arthus Citadel of Higher Wisdom when I was a boy.”

  “So, you know of philosophy, history and the noble sciences?”

  “I do, yes. I was given the title of both Scholar and History Keeper, a rare accomplishment,” Leosis bragged. “I know a great deal about this world. Do you wish to employ me in your services? I see that you have quite a bustling civilization down here. I would be proud to advise such a magnificent being such as yourself.”

  The former king’s head was tilted high now; he was leaning against the accomplishments of his former youth. He was undoubtedly a well-educated man.

  “Walk towards the goblin village then, and hold up your two fingers in a curled V, so the goblins know that you are walking with my direction.”

  “Of course!” Leosis said. He moved his hands as instructed and followed my words, heading into the secret passage that connected the goblin village to the market district. The village had grown significantly, but it was still facing a major problem. I guided him to a clearing where a band of goblin children were running about, playing Trap the Adventurer.

  “Do you see this field?” I asked.

  “I do.”<
br />
  “I wish to place a schoolhouse here. The goblins are wise and wonderful creatures, but they are not lettered. They are uneducated. I want more for them. For your crimes against me, for your lack of introspection, you will be punished as so. You will build a schoolhouse by yourself. It will be enough to house thirty of them.”

  “What? What would I know about building a school? I don’t work with my hands, I am not a carpenter.”

  “I suppose you will have to ask a carpenter to teach you how. Once the house has been built, you will take in a class of goblins and teach them to read, to write. You will teach them philosophy, the noble sciences and history. You will make them speak as eloquently as yourself.”

  “But goblins!” he shouted, then paused to look around to find he was in the company of many a goblin who was staring at him with curiosity. He quietly hissed the rest of his sentence. “But these are barbaric creatures. They have no shred of humanity.”

  “From what I have seen, they are far better behaved than humanity,” I replied. “But their youth are indeed barbaric. Unruly. I suppose if they do not like your harshness in the classroom, they will tear you to pieces. So, you best learn how to treat them with respect and love.”

  “You cannot be serious,” Leosis said. “I am no simple teacher! I am a king!”

  “You were a king,” I corrected. “But your legacy has been ruined; the people will spit on your name and forget you ever existed. But here? In this village? You have a chance to make a new name. To become a different person. Raise two classes to the level of scholar and you will be freed from this place.”

  Leosis opened his mouth to complain, to argue, but I stopped him by shaking the ground beneath him. “This is not a choice. Speak to Esemel the Carpenter, he will have the wood you need for the task.”

  And with that, I left the former king to his new occupation. He would learn humility this way or die holding onto his old ways. I was quite pleased with this and returned my efforts to designing the rest of the third level, which still had a few empty zones in it.

  Yet, while I was rather happy with my judgment upon Leosis, within an hour I received a missive from Ehdrid, asking to speak with me. At once, I focused on the tent where he was resting.

  “Ehdrid, you have need of me?” I asked.

  The goblin shaman sighed and nodded his head. “You have irritated the elders of the village by bringing in a human to teach our young.”

  “How quickly does news spread?”

  “Quite quickly when the human will not stop complaining to Esemel the Gossipmonger,” Ehdrid said. I noticed he looked to be rather agitated with me as well. He was respectful, of course, but there was frustration in his voice.

  “I have angered you?”

  “You have managed to anger all of us at once,” Ehdrid said. “But not personally, of course. We goblins educate our young through trade and imitation. The children follow the adults they like around and learn their craft, by their own choice. I teach lessons to those who seek guidance. We raise them all together, as a group. We preserve our culture and our traditions this way. For you to just bring in an outsider, a human who despises us…he will corrupt our youth.”

  “So, goblins do not steal in this village?” I asked.

  “There are thieves.”

  “And goblins do not murder? They do not get jealous of others and get revenge on those who slight them?”

  “Those all happen, yes. But not as frequently as in the human world,” Ehdrid explained.

  “Then I suppose with there being so many of you and only one of him, he will learn your ways faster than he can corrupt.”

  “You suppose a great deal,” Ehdrid said. “You are a great protector, but I resent you for not consulting me on such a judgment.”

  “Would you have allowed it, if I brought it to you?”

  “No,” Ehdrid said.

  “That is why I did not consult you. You are a great shaman, Ehdrid, and you are wise. But there is something you cannot give your people, something that no goblin here can offer them. The power of letters.”

  “Some of us can read,” the shaman replied, shaking his head.

  “I do not mean literacy, I mean the ability to learn, the ability to look for answers in books. To search for greater truths in this world. You seek to keep the peace, but I seek to elevate your society,” I replied. “I am not asking for you to force goblins to attend this school. You say they choose their occupation of their own free will? Then this is an option for them. Let the young who are curious and smart find the school.”

  Ehdrid sighed. “I must confer with Immix on such a matter.”

  I laughed at his joke, but the look upon his face was dead serious. “I do not understand, why would you seek the trickster for wisdom?”

  “The trickster and the shaman are two roles that every tribe must have. We are tied together. The shaman walks the spirit world and holds the peace of the village. But alone, he is introspective and contemplative, slow to change. He cannot fight battles, nor can he find new territories.

  “The trickster walks the realm of the living and the realm of dreams. He is impulsive and foolish, he picks fights with that he cannot overcome, but still overcomes them. He finds new lands and makes up new traditions. Alone he is a fool and a drunk. Together, we steward over this village. I preserve what is and he finds what will be.”

  “I always thought Immix to be an idiot.”

  “That much is true,” Ehdrid agreed. “But he will see this new course with the eyes of the trickster and he will know if this path leads to the elevation of our people, or their ruin.” He paused for a moment and took a deep breath, growing the courage to ask me his question. “If Immix reveals that this will hurt us, will you stand by the decision?”

  “Of course. I shall not stand in the way of your people, nor shall I bring harm to their culture.”

  “You are most understanding,” Ehdrid said as he produced a small bell from his bag. It was the same type of bell that Immix often wore around his belt. “I would request that we be left alone. This is a sacred time of consultation.”

  I shifted my consciousness away from Ehdrid, leaving him to call upon the trickster. Hopefully, they should be able to find the answer I was looking for.

  Chapter 22

  Finally, after two weeks of waiting, Vincenzo discovered the entrance to Level Four. I was excited at the prospect of seeing him experience a kind of challenge that would test all of his assumptions and pre-existing conceptions. Vincenzo’s Humility would indeed push him to the brink of his skillset. It was my hope that by trapping him in this level, he would eventually relent and give up on his attempts to map me.

  Of course, in order to achieve this, there would need to be a bit of foul play on my part. One such measure I took was to create a Soul Diversion artifact. From the extensive amount of necromantic knowledge I had gained after I slew Urioc, I knew ways to capture souls or even trap them. Going to such lengths was not in my nature, as I had no hatred or desire to see mortals suffer such a terrible fate. Yet, those spells had their uses.

  Soul Diversion was a type of magic that drew recently released spirits to them. They were often used to imprison souls into items or artifacts, but I had a different idea for this Soul Diversion spell. It wouldn’t lock anyone away, just force any released soul to a very specific resurrection shrine—one located in the middle of the fourth level. The diversion spell would also slow down the travel speed of the soul, giving the dungeon level enough time to reset itself.

  This meant two things: the first was that Vincenzo would be utterly incapable of leaving the fourth level until he could solve the grand puzzle and escape out the exit portal. The second was that the dungeon would be constantly changing after each time he died, making it impossible to get a handle on. How persistent was Vincenzo? Would he endure every single death and reset to map this place? Or would he give up after the third or fourth time? He was a skilled man and
very confident, so I wondered how well he would handle failure. I figured I would find out soon enough.

  Vincenzo seemed happy to have discovered another level. He often spoke out loud, hoping to catch my attention, or perhaps because he loved to hear the sound of his own voice.

  “Ah, of course, sticking with the vault theme, are we?” he said as he scribbled down notes.

  The first room was the default anti-vault trap that I had designed. He would spend a great deal of time searching for the key, not bothering to try the handle. Why should he? After all, vaults needed keys. There was no getting past that simple fact.

  He would find the key after a few minutes of searching, for it was hidden behind a false wall. Of course, my new buzzsaw trap was whirring back and forth, valiantly guarding the chest that contained this key. And much to my delight, Vincenzo tried to solve this problem the traditional way. He backed up several feet and made a running jump. The buzzsaw met him in the middle…and Vincenzo gave me a significant portion of his raw essence.

  Gaining his knowledge was interesting. I learned a great deal about the many different dungeons he had visited. I learned of massive dungeons in the Hollowlands, where dwarves created prisons to keep terrible creatures from escaping into the surface. I learned of a spherical prison in the sky, one that rebuilt itself hundreds of times a day, moving along the earth as if it were a moon. And I learned of the many types of magics that could be used to control a dungeon, to force it to move its walls aside, to spit out adventurers and even to destroy hallways.

  Vincenzo reformed at the resurrection point, most surprised to find that he stood in a room with a single glowing stone. Unbeknownst to him, he was surrounded by six Eternal Maze tiles. There was a door, but it was hidden away, only accessible once outside of those tiles. The cartographer seemed both shocked and frustrated by the fact that I had figured out a way to defeat him. “My gear,” he mumbled. “I must have it back at once.”