by Eric Ugland
Since we were heading back to Coggeshall, there was no need to keep our rations to ourselves. So we broke them out among our new friends, having something along the lines of a feast. But we were missing the happiness a feast usually brought about. The brownies were quiet — no one really spoke amongst the group. The witches huddled together, tired and clearly not looking forward to a night in a cave. I set watches, with Fritz on one side and Ragnar on the other, and then crashed. I needed sleep.
Ragnar, ever the kind soul, kicked me awake after a few hours, and we traded watch. I sat down on a rock and stared into the darkness. It was a long and boring watch, and nothing happened. Snores came from those still sleeping. A light odor of unwashed bodies wafted around.
The storm raged outside. Snow blew almost horizontal, but thankfully, never really came into the cave. The great big bulk of Fritz also did a pretty stellar job in keeping the wind out. The storm must have come up while I was sleeping, and though I was briefly tempted to walk out into it and get a sense of how bad it really was, I realized that might not be the best use of my time. And there was always the chance another of those abominaballs coming to ambush me. And talk about something that’s rather pointless. Sure, I got a fair amount of XP from killing the first abominaball, but not enough to risk the creature getting into the cavern for a tasty meal of witches. Sure, they weren’t sandwiches, but they were probably still quite tasty.
I waited and watched. Nothing happened.
People started waking a little before dawn. Before long Skeld had a new fire going and something bubbling in a pot. There was breakfast, a rather impressive lack of conversation, and then, just when I thought we were going to have another day of whining and complaining, Bixby yelled at her students, using a few curses I’d never heard. She pointed out that she was old and creaky, but not making a fuss. So the young ones needed to shut it and walk thankfully to their new home.
While effective in getting us moving, it really left an awkward air to everything. Fritz took off, flying wherever Deep Geese with eight heads go when they’re, you know, engaging in leisure activities. Vreggork and I took the lead, since we knew the way, and Skeld and Ragnar took up the far back, keeping everyone moving. It was a bizarre procession. Largely because the brownies were so small. You could lose sight of them passing by minor rock formations.
Our trek through the caverns was tedious, but nowhere near as bad as the bit through kobold warren. The throne room was full of rotting flesh and, well, poop. Poop of various sources, not just kobolds any longer. It made me a little nervous, so I looked over at Vreggork.
He shook his head. Whatever it was that had been defecating in the area, the snowbold wasn’t worried about it.
Then, it was through the worm tunnel until we got back to the door to Coggeshall.
I think it was the same dwarf, because I got the same greeting.
“Holy shit, Lord Coggeshall, is that you?” came the dwarven cry.
“Yeah,” I said, arms out to show myself off. “Same duke. Here with another delivery of people.”
Chapter Forty
“Brownies,” Nikolai said. “You brought brownies here.”
“You prefer cupcakes?”
“This is no laughing matter,” he snapped, hitting his palm on the desk. We were with Wian in Nikolai’s new office, next to our new hall. Both of which were inside the cave. Coggeshall was becoming more and more dwarflike. “You are bringing together peoples who up until now have been sworn enemies. You have no idea what you are doing.”
“Okay, first of all, I never have any idea what I’m doing, so you need to get over that. Second, no one tells me anything until after I’ve done the thing I wasn’t supposed to. Which, you know, is not very helpful. Tell me shit, and then I’ll know what not to do.”
“You do it anyway.”
“Sure, but then I’ll know what I’m doing, even if I’m doing something wrong.”
“He’s got a measure of logic there,” Wian said.
The office had stone walls and a window looking out over Coggeshall’s walled area, which was becoming quickly devoid of buildings. It was a homier room than the previous office, with a couch, of sorts, along one wall, and a small fireplace full of wood that popped and crackled as it burned. A large desk took up most of the rest of the room, with two chairs in front of it for guests. I sat in one, but Nikolai, at the present time, was pacing back and forth rather than face me. Wian, for his part, lay on the couch, wrapped in bandages.
“Before I forget,” I said, “I need to plant this tree.”
I held out the acorn.
Wian looked over at it and nodded.
Nikolai just frowned at me.
“Do you know anything about brownies?” he asked.
“I don’t like them with edges?” I replied.
“Is that a joke of some kind?”
“Since no one laughed, I’m just going to say no.”
“Brownies are fairies, and they--“
“Yeah, I got you on that. I know they are fairies. I saw the path to the fairy world, I made sure it was closed, that was part of the Accord.”
“Ah, yes, the Accord. Did you think to send a copy to me to read over before you signed it?”
“That would probably have been a good idea, but how the fuck—”
“The paired journal.”
“Yeah. Okay, point Nikolai. But I was in a bit of a time crunch and busting out the quill and ink might have taken a little longer than I had. And you were probably asleep and it’s not like there’s some blinking notification on this damn book, is there? You wouldn’t have known to look until you got up. And got bored.”
“I check the book every morning.”
“Dammit, Nikolai.”
“Dammit, Montana. You’re making messes.”
“And look at you, using contractions!”
“Shut up.”
I shut up. I was just happy to see him with a little more color than when I’d left. He was angry, sure, but he was engaged. That was a plus. I noticed a pile of shiny rocks in the corner, and it made me happy that at least some of the prinkies were still being used to bring Nikolai presents. It’s the little things that matter. Looking around, I decided to ask one of the carpenters to add a prinky door to Nikolai’s office. That way, he couldn’t just shut the door and keep them out.
“Well then. Tell me about brownies and how bad they are,” I said.
“I’m reading the Accord you signed,” he snapped back.
Marginally miffed, I stood up from the chair and walked over to the window to survey my lands. Huge tracts of land. From this height, I could see trees. And the river. And, I suppose, all the grounds within the walls. There weren’t a ton of trees left inside the walls, which left a lot of good options for the brownie’s tree. I knew it would probably eventually be quite large, so I didn’t want to put it somewhere where it might interfere with one of our paths or roads. And I didn’t want it too close to the walls because I knew it was something that needed protection. They were little guys, and I wanted to make sure they were kept safe. They were my people now. After surveying everything, I decided on the blackened ground remaining behind from the torched hall. It would be a good place to plant a tree, what with rebirth and all that symbolism and shit.
“The Accord is imperfect,” Nikolai finally said. “But I feel you did well enough.”
“A rousing compliment,” Wian called out from the couch.
“Right?” I asked. “Maybe I have finally made it.”
“When did the two of you decide to gang up on me?” Nikolai asked.
“I don’t think we’re ganging up on you so much as just agreeing that you’re a dick,” I said.
“I always knew you were a bit of a dick,” Wian said. “Comes from being in charge.”
“You were also in charge.”
“I am also something of a dick,” Wian replied. “Comes from being in charge.”
“As much as I enjoy bantering and this
impromptu dick shaming or naming thing, I’ve got things I need to do. Namely, plant a tree and then go kill off an entire group of people.”
“Not people,” Nikolai said. “The Corrupted are no longer people.”
“But what if they are?”
“They aren’t. They eat babies.”
“As much as I hate to agree with Nikolai right now,” Wian said, sitting up and wincing, “I have to say that baby-eating is a pretty good indicator there’s something wrong with you.”
I shrugged, and then nodded. Baby-killing was bad enough, but baby-eating was decidedly extra. There was something resolutely evil about that. So, maybe I needed to let the moral question rest, and focus on the violence.
“Is there a reason we need to worry about the brownies being integrated into Coggeshall?” I asked, leaning against the wall.
Wian shook his head.
Nikolai hesitated, then opened his mouth to say something, then shut it, and the shook his head.
“I don’t think so,” he said. “They are fundamentally different than any other race you’ve gathered here, though. These are creatures from a different plane of existence, and being that they chose to remain here when they could have returned home, you must ask why.”
“I haven’t had a chance yet.”
“It will be something we must take an interest in. If not today, soon.”
“And the witches?”
“You will certainly invite criticism by harboring magic users here, but I think that decision will reap rewards in time. I will meet with this Bixby woman and make clear the limitations, and see if the Mancers here are interested in some apprentices.”
“Also the life-mage, Timurlan. he might want some assistants.”
“His work is quite impressive. I am hopeful our food concerns for the winter might not be as grave as I once thought.”
“Nothing like a bit of good news to make me want to leave,” I said. “That came out wrong. I’m not happy having to leave.”
“Before you do,” Nikolai said, “should we talk about the hirð?”
“Ah, the newest member. Bear.”
“A brownie.”
”She’s a spell slinger.”
“I thought they all were.”
“They are, but her king seemed to think she was gifted. I’m hoping she can help balance out my lack of magic.”
“Perhaps one of the few intelligent moves you’ve made.”
“Ease up on the kid, already,” Wian said. “At this rate, he’s going to kill you come midwinter.”
“I wouldn’t do that,” I said. “I’d wait till spring.”
“I am hard on him because he must learn.”
“He is learning, Nik. He’s doing a hell of a lot better than any of us would be.”
“He has no choice. Do you know how many souls are relying on him to—”
“Over two thousand,” Wian interrupted to say. “Myself included. And my soldiers. Who are his soldiers. And they would already die for him. You are the only one who treats him like a piece of shit, and it affects morale. People do not like you.”
“I do not need people to like me,” Nikolai said.
“Yes you do,” I countered, a little surprised to be in the room while this conversation was going on, but wanting to get something out of it. “People need to like you because they need to like me. And if they still don’t like you after they’ve learned to like me, there will be tension in the holding. And that will only lead to bad things happening.”
“Kid is right,” Wian said. “You are going to have to ask people to do uncomfortable things for the good of all the people in the holding. People that they might not like. You need to be someone everyone will go to sword for. Especially when the big guy isn’t here.”
Nikolai glared at me. I knew what he wanted to say. That this was all my fault, that he never wanted any of this. I would have let him say it, even though it wasn’t true. This was all the work product of Benedict/Cleeve and Nikolai. I had the least to do with the holding, but I was its figurehead now.
“I’m going to plant a tree,” I said. “You two figure out how to keep the peace and make Nikolai the prom queen. Ducal order or some shit.”
And then, because I’m the duke, I walked out of the room.
“What is the prom?” Nikolai asked.
Chapter Forty-One
It was cold, wet, and windy outside. All the nasty types of weather that most people despise, and I enjoy. I walked out into the storm, my hair becoming a soggy mess. Water poured down my beard. The wind buffeted against me, but I strode on like the badass I am.
I could feel eyes on me, most of which were in the safety of our mountain home. The cliffside sported an impressive number of windows now. Nearly every opening had at least one face at it; some had more. I did a quick scan, and confirmed the distinct lack of kobolds in the windows. I needed to find out if they were being treated well.
I stopped at the edge of the burnt grass, pulled out the giant fist-sized acorn, and looked at it. It felt warm, and alive. And even though I’d never even planted a normal acorn before, the tree somehow sent a visual sense of what I needed to do. How deep down I needed to plant the seed and all that.
“Do you need assistance?” Came a small voice down below.
Bear was standing in the brownie equivalent of rain gear, somehow looking really fierce despite the wetness. Or, perhaps, because of it.
“I just put it in the ground, right?” I asked.
“And say a thing,” she replied. “At least, that is the minimum you could do.”
“Okay, enlighten me.”
“It would be better if you would feed the tree.”
“Don’t tell me it eats babies too.”
“Just some of your blood.”
“I don’t like that.”
“You need not do it.”
“But I should do it.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“It further bonds the tree, and those who call the tree home, to you. And it will strengthen the tree. It will gain some of your abilities and power, and confer those on, well, us.”
“What does it do to me?”
”It bonds the tree to you.”
“So if I die the tree dies?”
“No, but it will be harmed if you die. If you prosper, it will prosper.”
“Okay, how much blood?”
“Just a bit.”
I nodded, then I marched resolutely to the spot where the hall had stood. I thought about the people who died in the hall, and the people who had died for it. And with those thoughts in mind, I put the acorn in the ground, basically just punching a hole in the earth, about a foot and a half deep, and letting go. I pulled a dagger, just an ordinary thing, from my belt, and cut my hand.
Barely a drop of blood came out before the wound healed, and there was enough rain that the blood was washed away.
“Are you kidding me?” I asked the world.
I had to go bigger. So I got a good grip on the dagger, gritted my teeth, and sliced my arm open from elbow to wrist. I hit an artery, and the blood immediately started pumping. It took a second for me to angle the arterial spray in the right direction, being that the first pump hit me right in the face. Then I let a veritable shower of blood pour into the hole.
The tree grew faster than I’d anticipated. Maybe it was the addition of my blood, maybe it was something else. Whatever the case may have been, the tree shot up. It hit me in the face and knocked me back on my ass. Then, because the tree was still growing, the trunk pushed me back and farther out of the way.
I was laying at the base of the most beautiful oak tree I had ever seen. And it was huge. The branches were nearly a hundred feet long, horizontally. Or more. They just seemed to extend out forever. And the leaves seemed to tinkle in the rain. And no rain reached the ground where I was. It was pleasant and dry. And it smelled nice. I felt peaceful there. Though that might have just been a side-effect of blood loss and bei
ng rather lightheaded.
Congratulations! You’ve completed a QUEST!
Arbor Day
You managed to plant the treehome of the brownies before the third sunrise, and the tree has surived.
Reward for success: The continued survival of the brownies, loyalty of the brownies of the Coggeshall Treehome, 2400 XP.
“Might have been too much blood,” Bear said, looking at me, then at the tree, then back at me. “Is your arm okay?”
I held up my arm, wiped away the bit of blood left, and showed her the unbroken skin.
“Fine,” I said.
She just nodded. “It is a good tree.”
“Do they normally grow that fast?”
“Not that fast. Not this big. Not all the time at least.”
“How many have you seen?”
“Me? Three.”
“How old are you?”
She just smiled and walked to the tree. She put both hands on it and bent her head down.
The other brownies ran from the mountain entrance out to their new home. It was a little weird to see them look up at the tree with reverence, making no noise. Soon, they all had their hands on the tree, leaning their heads against it as well. Communing, I suppose.
I took my time getting up, making sure I didn’t bother anyone, and then I left.
I saw Lee leaning against the doorway to the kitchen. He gave a nod my way, so I angled over to him.
“Nice tree,” he said.
“Felt like we needed to spruce the place up a bit,” I replied.
“Or oak it up.”
“Bit of a reach.”
“So is the tree.”
“You don’t like it?”
