Walter nodded as he seemed to lose himself in thought. “Then I hope you don’t leave our side.”
Seelios smiled. “Don’t worry. I plan to see you and the rest of the villagers to safety.”
The trees began to thin ahead and Seelios saw the sparkling water of the Brascella River. It’s babbling currents were much calmer than the rapids of Emeline’s Clearing.
The caravan stopped at the tree line and watched the stag wade into the shallows. Water splashed about its wooden legs and tugged at its mossy mane. At least there was some assurance that they were headed in the right direction. Even if the stag abandoned them, they’d still be able to follow the river to Paloise.
The god raised its head, tilting its wooden antlers back as he pointed his snout to the sky. The green light of his eyes grew in intensity as he seemed to concentrate in some sort of summoning of power. The sands of the river bank shifted and tree roots snapped, giving way to thick green vines that rose out of the ground. They continued to grow, reaching up above the trees, until they towered menacingly in the air. Seelios grabbed his spear and stood in his wagon. Screams came from the caravan and villagers began backing away.
The writhing vines slowly fell away from the trees and stretched across the river. Water splashed as the giant stalks unfurled across the surface like colossal green tongues. The tips of the vines reached the other side of the river and anchored themselves into the ground with an explosion of dirt, pulling themselves taught to form a living bridge.
Seelios eased back down into the seat of the wagon as he watched the stag step onto the vines and walk across. He looked on with hesitation, but realized the others were watching him. No one else would dare cross the bridge if Seelios didn’t even have the courage to do so. He took a deep breath and snapped the reins. Seelios’s horse seemed surprisingly calm, as if it were a once a week occurrence for the animal. He remembered what Gregory said about horses being creatures of the earth.
The wheels made strange noises as they squeaked over the slippery surface. It was an odd sensation to be suspended over a river, secured by something that had formed only moments prior. Seelios turned his head and saw the rest of the caravan following. Nearly everyone looked terrified and some didn’t even set foot onto the vine bridge until they saw others successfully cross.
By the time dusk arrived everyone was eager to make camp. Discussions were happening up and down the caravan about when they should stop, when the stag suddenly halted before them. It turned to face Seelios and the rest of the villagers. Green eyes flashed as the trees around them shrank away like a crowded plaza making way for their king. Groans of shifting wood and snapping of stray branches echoed all around as they intertwined and packed together to form a dense perimeter around the clearing. Brush, weeds, and other plant-life retreated into small fissures in the ground that sealed themselves up to reveal soft, yet firm earth.
The villagers looked around at the clearing with their mouths agape. It was a perfect place to set up their encampment. At the edge where trees and plants packed together, bushes blossomed with ripe and juicy fruits. People rushed to them and eagerly ate the feast offered by the earth. They turned to face the stag while holding up the fruit and shouted their praise, bowing in respect. The green eyes stared back at them.
An offering given by a god must be accepted with utmost gratitude; a cardinal rule that must be respected with sacred reverence. Whether it be out of devotion or fear, it didn’t matter, just that the god was acknowledged for its generosity.
Seelios took a large apple that drooped down from a branch. “Thank you, Lord of the Earth,” he said in a deep bow. The stag regarded him with unblinking eyes, then turned and strode into the forest. The trees opened before it, then closed as it nestled down into its own grove of foliage that slithered up from the ground and cradled it like newborn chick in a bird’s nest.
“What’s this shit?” an old man said. From across the fire he could be seen scowling down at a handful of berries. He tossed them over his shoulder and looked at the others. “I need meat! I’m not livestock.”
Seelios looked at the man in horror, then glanced over at the stag. It remained unmoving.
“Calm yourself, Byram. We must take what the god offers,” Walter said.
“I will not calm myself!” Byram stood and glared at Walter. “I’ve been riding in that damned wagon all day. All I ask for is for a proper meal.” He glanced over at the grove where the stag lay. “That thing leading us, it’s not safe.” He pointed a finger at Seelios. “You there. Your spear killed that rock giant. I have a mind to believe you could kill that four-legged pile of dirt.”
“Kill it?” another man said. “It’s the only thing guiding us through this forest!”
Other villagers murmured in agreement. Some frowned, looking as if they weren’t sure what to do. People began talking at once, raising their voices over each other. It was beginning to get so loud that Seelios was concerned the stag would awake.
“Quiet you fools,” Walter said as he stood from his seat on a log. He scowled at everyone gathered around the campfire like they were children. “Malicious or not, we best not wake that thing in the middle of the night. Keep your voices down.”
“I still have faith in the stag,” Seelios said. “You all have every reason not to, as do I, yet here we are. We’ve come all this way and should see it through to the end.”
The murmurs and lack of outward agreement made Seelios suspect that not everyone shared his sentiments. The God of Earth had, after all, destroyed their entire home town and killed many of their loved ones. To not trust the stag would be understandable, but Seelios hoped their hearts wouldn’t lead them astray. Or maybe they were right. Maybe Gameus did have something bad in store for them. Still, the god only seemed to have one thing on his mind when he spoke to Seelios, and that was the approaching war. Seelios had been pawing at the chance to share this piece of information with someone, but was hesitant because of the questions he knew would follow. Who was the war going to be between? When was the war going to happen? How does the God of Earth know about this?
Conversations continued, but no one else found the courage to appeal to the group. Seelios caught glimpses of Byram glaring at him through the flames, whispering to two other men who also leered with smiles close to sinister. It would appear, despite Seelios’s heroics, that he still managed to have some enemies among the people of Alnerwick. Seelios considered using his ring to see if they were morally corrupt, but thought that mana would be better used at keeping the caravan alive if needed. There was always the possibility that Seelios was wrong about the stag.
The gathering at the campfire slowly shrank as people retired to their tents. Seelios couldn’t help but worry that there was no real resolution to the villagers’ concerns. He prayed that they could maintain their faith until they reached Paloise.
The following days were uneventful and the easiest time any of them had traveling. A flat, direct path through the forest that provided as much food as they needed was more than anyone could ask for, even though some yearned the occasional leg of lamb or turkey roast. Every once in a while they would cross paths with the Brascella River, but lose it again as it turned into the trees. It was just enough to know that the stag was still leading them to safety.
Lore told that the quickest path to a destination was as the crow flies, true and free. Most beings except birds and the Goddess of Wind, however, had to make their journey on land. Comfort was found in having a crow’s sight line to the end, but to travel without clarity meant faith in success without assurance. A journey as the earthen stag walks took courage and perseverance, a test of spirit.
Some spirits were stronger than others. And when the weak broke, the whole caravan suffered.
On the fifth night of their departure from Alnerwick, the stag cleared a part of their forest for encampment, just like it had done every night before. It stood at the edge of the clearing and watched the villagers take the fruit that
grew from surrounding trees and bushes. The people turned and gave their thanks, but the sincerity had grown dull.
One of the men handed Byram a handful of blackberries as he was unpacking his tent from a wagon.
“This blasted filth again?” Byram said. He glared down at the offering, then up to the man. “Enough of this. I demand real food.”
Seelios walked over. “Byram, you mustn’t. I know it’s not—”
“Shut your mouth or I’ll shut it for you. This is all your meddling fault,” Byram said. He looked as if he was going to say more when his eyes drifted off Seelios’s face and followed something behind him.
“Grab my hunting bow,” Byram said to another villager, eyes still staring in the distance.
Seelios turned and saw a young doe sauntering along the other side of the clearing. It stopped to nibble on a cluster of red berries in the bushes. Seelios’s eyes widened in horror when he saw Byram draw the string, but it was too late. Feather fletching whistled through the air as the arrow left the bow with a soft thrum. The doe’s hindquarters dropped to the ground, the arrow shaft sticking from the ridge of its back. It thrashed its head about and pawed at the ground with its front legs, trying desperately to flee into the woods.
“Quick, another arrow,” Byram said.
“No, stop!” Seelios said. He moved to grab the bow from the old man’s hand.
“Get off me, boy, or the next arrow goes in you!”
A thunderous boom shook the ground, stilling the hearts of every person in that clearing. All heads turned to where the earthen stag once stood and saw the armored God of Earth, wielding his axe with a face of pure fury. His shining plate glittered in the light from the surrounding campfires.
“I give you shelter.” Gameus stepped forward with another earth shaking stride. “I give you food.” He raised his axe and the runes lit up like green flame. The surrounding trees groaned and creaked as they twisted into each other until they formed a tight wall around the perimeter of the clearing. “And I give you guidance. Yet you repay me with insolence and brutality?”
Seelios watched slender vines writhe out of the ground and wrap around the injured deer, still struggling to move on two legs. The vines squeezed and pulled the panicking animal into a hole in the ground that closed shut.
“Your contempt for the gods will not go unpunished,” Gameus said. Villagers scattered away from the god as he stepped into the center of the clearing. Rending rock and crumbling earth sounded through the air as an enormous column of granite burst from the ground and lifted the God of Earth above the tree line. He looked down from his grand pedestal with disgust. “Be gone.”
Seelios sprinted to his wagon, praying he would be able to stop the god before anything terrible happened. He snatched the spear and focused on the teleportation totem, disappearing in a flash of light and reappearing behind the god.
“You dare challenge me?” the god said over his shoulder.
“Gameus, spare them. They were foolish and ungrateful, but most of all they’re scared,” Seelios said.
Gameus narrowed his eyes. “You give me demands now? You fool. You might have some power, but you’re nothing compared to me.” He raised his axe again and green glowing cracks fanned out from the bottom of the column across the campground, crossing in jagged lines underneath wagons, tents, and terrified villagers. “You will watch as I send these pathetic people into the abyss of the earth.”
“I won’t let you.” Seelios thrust his spear at the back of Gameus’s green cape. The god swept his axe around and parried the spear tip with ease, turning to face Seelios. If there was any doubt before, it’d been completely erased; that axe was made out of orichalcum.
Seelios’s heels were on the rock’s edge and he realized there was barely enough room for the two of them on the column. The green eyes of the god were glowing with such intensity that it was hard to maintain eye contact.
“You’d sacrifice yourself for these people?” Gameus said.
“They’re my responsibility. They deserve to live,” Seelios said.
“You speak of such entitlement as if you were a god yourself. No one deserves to live, it is only earned. I had hopes for you, and I gave you mercy. But you bring these people through my domain and insult my hospitality. Your lack of respect is unforgivable.”
Seelios’s pulse was racing. Fighting a lumbering rock giant was one thing, but dueling a being who’s lived for eons was entirely different.
Gameus raised his axe and the column shook. Rock crumbled beneath Seelios’s feet, causing him to stumble forward to keep his balance. The god swung his axe with such speed and ferocity that Seelios hardly had time to react. He lifted his spear overhead, gripped with both hands. The blow of the axe struck with an ear piercing ring, making his arms go numb. The impact sent him flying off the column. Light enveloped Seelios in free fall and he teleported to safety before he crashed into the ground. He looked up and saw Gameus snickering down from the column.
“So you’ve managed to find some strength after all. I suppose those feeble limbs could use all the help they can get,” the god said.
Seelios looked down at his hand. He hadn’t noticed at first, but his muscles felt surged with strength. It was the only thing that kept him from crumpling under the force of Gameus’s axe. He realized that he must’ve been using mana to increase his strength without even knowing it.
Seelios was preparing to attack Gameus again when the fissures in the ground began to split apart like ice floes in an ocean. Screams were barely audible over the rumbling of the earth as large pieces of land dropped away into a dark void below. A nearby wagon slid off the edge of a newly formed cliff and shattered into planks of timber as it tumbled and bounced. The villagers scrambled in a panicked frenzy, trying to flee through the surrounding trees which were pressed so tightly together that nothing bigger than an insect could squeeze through.
Villagers looked on in horror as black pits in the ground widened and crept ever closer. Seelios leapt over a gap and ran to a man and a woman cowering beside a wagon.
“Grab my arm,” Seelios said, extending his hand. They looked confused for a moment, but didn’t hesitate to comply. As soon as their hands came into contact, Seelios focused on the closest place he could think of.
When the light faded, the moonlit ruins of Alnerwick came into view. The man and the woman dropped to the ground in a tangled mess of vertigo and terror. Seelios teleported back to the campground and searched for others, grabbing anyone he could find. Some tried scrambling up trees while others hid in their wagons, hoping not to be seen. As more witnessed what Seelios was doing, they flocked to him in desperation.
Seelios tried his best to not dwell on the ones that he missed, the ones that fell into the fissures just out of reach of his finger tips. Every time he teleported back to the campground there was less earth to stand on and fewer people than he left before.
Seelios appeared in Alnerwick, easing Walter to the ground beside his fainted wife. “Please, you must find my boy!” Walter said as he collapsed to his knees. “As soon as it all started, he ran away. Gods, please let him be safe.”
“I’ll try,” Seelios said as he disappeared in another flash.
Gameus continued to look with a wry smile from atop his column as the fissures continued to spread, causing chunks of earth to drop away into nothingness. The middle of the campground had become a hollowed abyss with a single granite spire in the middle. Seelios looked around to see if there was anyone left to save. The sea of blackness had nearly reached the trees at the edge of the clearing on all sides.
Seelios heard a young boy’s cry from an abandoned wagon pushed up against the tree line. He ran over and peered inside the flaps and saw Walter’s son, Elrick, huddling with the rows of immobile people inside the wagon. Panic rose inside his chest as he realized he’d forgotten about the injured. He’d forgotten about the one person who’d been protecting him up until that point; Gregory.
“Elrick,
take my hand,” Seelios said, reaching into the tent. The shaking ground beneath them grew more violent as the creeping abyss was nearly upon them. Gameus’s booming laughter echoed off the surrounding trees.
Seelios felt the brush of a tiny hand and squeezed it in return. He dropped Elrick off in Alnerwick to the gasps of his parents and refocused back on the campground. He found his mind suddenly having trouble and realized how much he’d been using the artifact. He pulled the teleportation totem out and saw the runes had dimmed to a dull glow. There was barely any mana left within it, and he’d been draining his own life without realizing. It’d be dangerous to continue, but Gregory was still in peril.
He grasped the totem in his hand and forced his mind to focus on his destination. When he reappeared next to the wagon he landed with a thud, lungs heaving with exhaustion. He reached with a shaky hand and grasped the wooden spokes of the wheel. When he pulled himself up, he felt it sway under his weight. Gameus’s abyss had nearly reached the trees and the wagon was teetering on the edge of free fall.
A hand reached out from the wagon and touched Seelios. “The totem, give it to me,” Gregory said, leaning out from the back of the wagon. He looked pale skinned with dark circles under his eyes. Even after several days of rest he still looked on the brink of death.
Seelios dropped the artifact in Gregory’s hand and watched as the disciple closed his eyes and scrunch his face in concentration. Beads of sweat collected on his brow, sliding down the wrinkled creases of his face and dripping off his beard. He opened his eyes and looked at Seelios with only the faintest glimmer of life left in him.
“Save . . . yourself,” Gregory said. He extended a shakey hand that held the totem and another long object wrapped in cloth.
Seelios took the items and the disciple’s arm swung away loosely. The teleportation totem brimmed with the tiniest amount of mana added within, just enough to make it back to Alnerwick.
The wagon groaned as the back lifted up into the air, the front teetering further over the crumbling cliff’s edge. “Gregory, grab my hand!” Seelios screamed, reaching out.
As the Earthen Stag Walks (The Simulacrum Book 1) Page 13
