Oh, Icons, Breena breathed, and I didn’t blame her.
Directly up ahead of us was the second-largest tree I had ever seen. The tumor-covered tree was half again the size of the normal Woadfathers back on Avalon, and as I watched, the reddened woad glyph suddenly pulsed, causing bark and tumor to creak, swell, and expand.
“It’s growing,” Breena said softly to me. “It’s growing into an actual Monarch.”
“I thought that was supposed to be a different species of plant?”
“It is,” Breena replied as we closed the final distance. “I mean, they’re related, but still, you can’t get a Monarch from a Woadfather seed. But this—” She shook her head as the tree expanded again. As it did so, one of the numerous tumors coating it burst open, and three mutated Spawn fell to the ground. Their bodies were coated with extra, discolored sinew, and their faces were masses of bloody, featureless tissue. They whipped their heads around, and the wounds on their face began to suck in air as if they were sniffing for us.
Gross, Val sent in disgust.
Yep, I replied, already tracing symbols through the air. Kill them quickly.
This time, I had traced a large enough copy and empower symbols for Breena and Karim to fire their own lightning bolts through. While they did so, I poured my fingerbolts in next, then followed it up with my Friction Slice spell, casting it again and again until the script magic faded a few seconds later.
One of the disfigured Spawn was shocked and sliced apart, another was injured from the chaining effect of Journeyman-level lightning bolts, and the final one somehow drew the blood from the dying Spawn’s body into a burning orb in front of it.
The fleshy mass on the Woadfather pulsed again, and this time we heard a voice speak from it.
“Fleeeee,” the massive tree creaked. “Noooo… king… here…”
That’s a real bad sign, I thought to Teeth. Can we try to transform?
No, damn it, Teeth cursed in frustration. Cavus burned us out.
I threw my axe into the burning blood-orb the center Spawn was still shaping. The orb splashed apart, sizzling all over the mutated freak, who went right back to reforming it, unconcerned for its smoldering flesh. Arrows and arcane bolts began to pepper it. To my left, I saw Eadric and Val sprint for the wounded Spawn, weapons drawn. The corrupted tree began to pulse again, and several dozen tumors swelled, each the same size as the ones that just produced the mutant Spawn.
I was struggling to think of how we were going to handle over a dozen more Spawn when Breena called for my attention, speaking, tugging my shoulder, and sending mental messages all at once.
“Wes,” she said, eyes locked downward. “Look.”
Her wand was pulsing in sync with the corrupted Woadfather, alternating between pink and purple light.
“Breena,” I said quickly, remembering my earlier plan to transform. “Do what you did against Cavus.”
She hesitated for a split second.
“I still don’t know how I did that,”
One of the tree’s pustules ripped open, as a Spawn stuck its arm out.
“I think I remember,” I said gently, choosing not to scream about how every second counted. “You realized that you are brave, and beautiful, and that you wanted to take back something that was lost.”
He called out to her again, right at that moment.
Daughter, the quiet voice said. Use me. Seek what is lost. I rage.
I saw Val shudder out of the corner of my eye, as Shadow Magic wrapped around her.
Do it, Breena, she sent over the mindlink, leaping into the air with Shadow-enhanced strength and slicing open the wounded Spawn’s throat. You can trust him.
Breena sighed, closed her eyes, and began to grow, glowing with the light she had shown with earlier.
Her merger with Invictus was different from my own. She didn’t begin shouting a chant about light or Ideal magic. She just grew to a size larger than Val and hovered above our heads.
“Can you hear me?” she asked the corrupted Woadfather. “Do you remember what you used to be?”
I heard an angry, hissing sound come from all of the flesh coating the giant tree. But a patient creaking noise soon followed.
“Yes,” the sentient tree replied. “Light. Used to have light… Miss light…”
“You have been robbed and wronged,” Breena said as she shined with a gold-pink light. She pointed her wand, her ‘boom-stick,’ at the largest part of the tumor coating the giant tree. “Give back what you have taken,” she commanded, and then, pulling on a power whose source I couldn’t sense, she fired a blast out from her wand twice the size of her human-sized body.
The blast struck the centermost Spawn on the way, catching the top of the monster and utterly vaporizing its skull. Then it dug into the dirt, and I felt Breena strain and pull the pillar of golden fire upward, directly into the Chaos Wound. The tumorous mass bubbled and hissed in both anger and pain as clumps of it broke off and dissolved. The Chaos Wound quickly expelled more altered Horde, but Breena’s wings began fluttering, blasting shards of sharp light into them. But I felt her strain, and I knew she could not keep this up for long.
Use me, the quiet voice said to me next, I rage.
I reached for the Soulcurrent, but instead I found myself grasping Breaker, in its blade-less form. The handle vibrated in my hand, pulling me toward the tree. I let it, flinging myself forward as fast as I could. The Woadfather quaked and swayed, but Breena had blasted a way clear for me
“Miss… light,” the giant tree croaked again, and the Chaos Wound hissed angrily at it. But the Woadfather strained, and a patch of burnt tumor suddenly fell off of it. “Here… take… buried… light.”
Breaker was pulling me directly to that patch. Using my Air magic’s enhancements, I launched into the air, dodging a pustule of Chaos Wound that suddenly fired off of the tree at me. As I grew closer I saw a form indented into the patch of bark. One more leap brought me close enough to see that the figure was human-shaped, and what was clasped in his hands was the object Breaker was pulling me over to find.
“Take… light,” the tree begged. “Uncover… use… give… light.”
One more careful leap, and I was next to the patch on the giant tree.
It was a human figure, either one of the ancient Woadfolk or a very muscled elf with a well-groomed beard. The body was regal even covered in bark, wearing a thin crown and some sort of segmented platemail. Clasped in the bearded lord’s hands was a short blade, a little longer than the arsenic bronze short sword I had loaned to Alum.
As Breaker buzzed in my hand, I knew that this blade in front of me was even older than my old short sword. It may have predated time itself, if such a thing were possible, but who would know if it was?
Furthermore, a voice told me, this blade and its wielder did not belong in this tree. Entombing a body in a Woadfather was both blasphemous and harmful for the tree itself. And this blade should not have been covered up, an instinct growled inside of me. It should have been somewhere accessible, in case the Woadlands or its king had need of it.
Whoever had entombed this ancient king and this blade here must have done so recently, with the express purpose of making sure it would not be easy to find.
They had planted a bloody forest just to hide one blade.
I couldn’t get the warrior’s corpse out at this moment, but my hand moved to the bound weapon on its own accord. If this sword got free, we all had a chance. We just needed to hope long enough to see the light. We just needed to…
I trailed off of as Breaker’s hilt touched the bark-buried blade. Light and sound cracked out from where they met, and as I fell backwards, Claimh Solais, the sword of light, leaped into my hand and imprinted its name into my mind.
The weapon had taken Breaker’s place, merging directly into the weapon on a level only Carnwennan had done. It was a sword with a thick, flanged guard, and a blade that flared out a few inches away from the hilt. The blade was a little over
two feet long, longer than my dagger but not as long as my spatha. But as the sword of light, it didn’t need to be long, the voice told me. Its purpose was to show light in dark, tight places, to make sure light traveled there, and to stab and hew apart any obstacles between the light and the hopeless people that needed it. I felt the bright weapon pleasantly warm my hand, telling me that at least some of the weapon’s light brought heat as well.
“Light…” the Woadfather groaned again. “Share… light.”
“No!” a bubble popped, and in that sick moment I realized how this Trial had gotten so strong, so fast.
The Malus Men had somehow created a Horde Pit directly inside the Chaos Wound.
Breena let out another powerful blast, scorching the massive bubble that housed the Horde Pit inside of it. Secondary bubbles popped all along the giant bubble’s surface, but the Pit itself did not crack.
“Hurry, Wes!” Breena cried out in a grated voice. “I can’t finish this thing off on my own!”
“Trial,” another bubble popped. “Trial…aids…defeat… impossible…”
“No,” the suffering tree creaked beneath the Pit and Chaos Wound. “Use… more… light!”
“On it,” I said, suddenly knowing what to do.
The longer I held Claimh Solais, the more I knew what to do. The Horde Pit and Chaos Wound were reinforcing each other on a level that not even Cavus could. They were both taking horrible damage from Breena’s attack, but with every minute the blood-tainted woad glyph would pulse and undo some of that damage.
That very thought told me what to do next. I leap-climbed my way up the Woadfather until I could reach the reddened woad glyph, and then I held out my new sword in front of the tainted glyph. The short blade flared up like a propane torch as it brushed up against the corrupted sap. The next moment, green light began to burst from the tree’s mark.
“Nooo,” the Chaos Horde Pit shouted with another massive bubble popping.
“At…” the Woadfather creaked. “…Last.”
Claimh Solais still blazed, bright enough to where I needed to look away. But out of the corner of my eye, I could see the woad sap in the glyph glow even brighter than before. The lines of woad sap all along the tree turned green as well, burning away the Chaos Wound’s taint and causing big chunks of warped flesh to fall from the tree. Behind me, Breena sagged but redoubled her blast, pouring more light through her new wand and into the Pit-Chaos Wound hybrid.
The Woadfather kept reacting to the light of my new blade, creaking toward it ever so slightly, the way a potted plant might turn its leaves toward the light. It stretched as it shifted, making my footing stumble as bark, roots, and branches kept expanding. I remembered that the Chaos Wound damaged plants the most not by changing them to something else, but by changing them halfway, giving them an incomplete form that was only useful for the Wound’s purpose. The tree was trying to complete the change, but it seemed to sputter in its growth, as if it was lacking one final, crucial element to finish its transformation into a Woadfather Monarch.
I was about to tell it to stop changing, to try and remain what it had been before it had been damaged, but the quiet voice stopped me.
No, it said. The plant can now only diminish or become greater. It can never go back to what it once was. So crown it.
What? I asked, baffled, as my footing continued to keep up with the shifting bark.
Crown it. Seek the lost. Then crown them. They will be kings. They will be queens.
I will be king, something in my own heart answered. I will protect. I will prevail. I will be king.
Crown them, the voice repeated. Seek the lost. Then crown them.
I knew what to do.
Breaker had not lost its storage function when it merged with Claimh Solais. I still retained over a gallon of Woadfather Monarch sap within the weapon’s storage space. I summoned the sap out of my weapon’s handle, and the green liquid traveled through the bright light and directly into the Woadfather’s glyph.
The tree creaked again in response, and then continued expanding. The belt of flesh constricting it now fully broke off, burning up as Breena’s light incinerated it. The main bubble holding the Horde Pit finally burst, and I saw Ball-ee leap out of the back of Val’s bag and begin heading over to the spilling muck.
“I… see…” the giant tree said behind me. “Thank you… fathers…”
I turned my head back to look at the transforming plant, wondering if it was talking to me, the sap, or the voice.
All, the voice said inside of me. Crowning is fathering. Crowning is mothering.
It’s why I tried to crown you, son, my father’s voice suddenly swept through my mind, making me tear up and shudder all over, in spite of the storm of magic happening all around me.
And I will crown you as well, the quiet voice promised. Be king. And crown others. Then the voice vanished before I could question, distrust, or argue with it.
“I…” the tree creaked again, growing and shifting still, shuddering one final time. “Am… whole.”
Then the massive tree went still. I sighed and lowered myself off of it.
I had wanted to get a better view of the tree and the battlefield, but one final obstacle got in my way.
“Usurper,” the mist said as it drifted from the dying Pit. It loomed over me in the shape of a multi-headed winged dragon, much like the one that rose out of Raw-Maw’s corpse. “You have broken that which you cannot even comprehend. This will destroy you. This will—”
I swung Claimh Solais out in front of me. A blaze of light leaped out from the weapon and swirled into the nearby phantom in a slash-shaped beam. The beam tore the misty dragon in half, and as he dissipated, I inhaled.
“False king!” the dragon screamed as the top part of its torn form drifted into my open mouth. “I will bury you under a mountain of angry gods!”
Nom-nom-nom, Teeth answered as I felt my own dragon consume the angry vestige. Also, shut your digested ass up.
Language, I admonished just because I could, before turning my attention back to the battlefield around us, counting off the members of my team. Val and Eadric were still standing next to the mutated Horde they had killed. Karim and Weylin had turned their fire outward, onto the remaining enemies, but it seemed a formality at this point. The death of the Chaos Wound’s central mass had caused the secondary tumors controlling its forces to dissolve and melt off. This affected the trees immediately, depriving them of both the means and desire to murder us. The Hordebeasts’ integration with the Wound had been even deeper, so when their tumors fell off it took much of their bodies with them. Karim and Weylin were left with just putting the monsters out of their misery.
Everybody’s pretty much okay, Wes, Val informed me. Merada’s got some wounded with her, but Ball-ee is already on his way over to them. Breena’s a little tired, but the Ball-ee that just came out of the Pit is watching her.
I turned and saw Breena resting on a pile of leaves the new smaller copy of Ball-ee had somehow dragged over, back to her smaller size and completely drained.
“Di-rec-tive?” the little ball of jelly squeaked, bumping into my fairy companion. “Rest? Sleep? Heal?”
“I will if you stop touching me,” the little sprite moaned. “Wes, making me do that a second time has completely tired me out. I’m sore and if nobody’s dying, I’m going to bed right now.”
Merada, are we really okay? I sent worriedly, while at the same time wincing at Breena’s choice of words.
Aye, the Woad-woman replied. A whole lot of us would’ve died if ye had taken five minutes longer, but now yer little jelly be treating the worst of the wounded. They all won’t be fighting tomorrow, but at least they’ll be breathing.
Great, Breena told us, and promptly fell asleep.
She was right, I decided as I scooped her up in a spare cloak. If the fight was truly over, then everyone had earned a rest. Then I remembered two demigods were still battling somewhere, and bit back a loud oath.
Speaking of which, a blood-curdling roar sounded out from the distance as the Bloody-Horned Huntsman finally felt the loss of power from his sponsorship of the Chaos Wound.
“Impossible!” the Dark Icon snarled audibly from miles away. A loud boom sounded afterward, and I gained the impression that the Stag Lord had suddenly gained the upper hand. “Subterfuge? From you, brother?” I felt a powerful awareness turn toward my direction, and then a horn blasted like it was right next to my ears. “I will take their lives before I take my leave!”
A blur of power rushed its way towards us. Its presence made my head swim, and I fought to clear it. I summoned Toirneach again, raising it along with Claimh Solais as I faced the last foe of this Trial.
“No,” a creaking voice said behind me. “You are not king here.”
I turned and saw the new form of the Woadfather for the first time. The wooden monolith had doubled from its previous size, with leaves and branches that spread out just now to make a canopy covering over a mile of the forest. One massive branch swayed to move in front of us, disrupting whatever attack the Dark Icon was projecting at us. “Begone,” the new Monarch said in its creaking voice, and the new woad glyphs covering its bark all flared together at once, sending out a combined beam of green fire. The beam spiraled outward to strike an invisible figure dozens of miles away, one who roared in pain and agony several moments later.
“CHALLENGER!” the Huntsman roared. “YOU HAVE MADE A SWORN ENEMY TODAY!”
The Bloody-Horned Huntsman now views you with abject animosity, my mindscreen informed me uselessly.
Hypocrite, Teeth thought as the Dark Icon responsible for nearly destroying this world retreated into whatever haven his kind rested in after nearly being destroyed. You better run. Or you’ll see if we don’t kick your ass in a couple more Rises.
Speaking of which, power began to thrum and whirl about inside of me. For a moment I felt as I could have undergone several Rises at once, but then I felt something lock down on me again, something try to restrict me once more.
Woad Children (Challenger's Call Book 3) Page 47
