“Don’t feel bad about that,” Justan said. “Not many people knew. Heck, even I didn’t know that my mother was a wizardess.”
“I’m actually surprised by that,” she replied. “The way that woman used her magic, anyone with mage sight would have seen it. She put wards on everything. Even my schoolwork. She knew before I came to class whether I had completed it or not.”
Justan pursed his lips. “Yeah, well evidently I was dense growing up.”
“Hold on a second.” Beth slowed down as the market area came into view. It was getting close to noontime and the streets were bustling. “I think we’ll take a different route.”
She took a turn and headed down a side street, leading them into a section of the city that Justan hadn’t been shown on his previous excursions. It was a poorer area. The people here lived in tall buildings that looked like small squat houses stacked on top of each other. Justan could tell that the buildings were not made of the same white brick as the rest of the city, but were instead made of rougher brick or wood and then painted white. Smaller slower moving canals passed through the area in a web-like pattern, separating each building.
They traveled through the area by a series of unadorned wooden bridges that connected each of the buildings. The people in this area wore clothes that were a bit more worn and drab than the Roo-Tan in the rest of the city. Justan noted that most of them wore brown ribbons in their hair.
The people stared at Justan and his bonded as they passed by. They had obviously heard of the visiting strangers and were curious but friendly. Most of them knew Beth on sight and greeted her with smiles and waves.
“Do you come this way often, Beth?” he asked.
“It is the quickest way to my house from the palace,” she explained.
“You live out here?” Justan was surprised. He had never seen their place, but he had assumed that they lived close to the palace.
“No. We have a nice little home that’s not surrounded by canals. It’s just outside the city,” she clarified. “Between here and the grove. When I first came here, Hilt was living at the palace as Xedrion’s guest. I grew tired of it. Having all those servants around? My parents would have loved that, but a woman wants her privacy. That’s one of the reasons why I choose to travel through this part of the city.”
Justan wasn’t sure how this section of the city meant privacy. A group of excited children started following behind them, chatting and pointing at Gwyrtha and Deathclaw. All the attention made Deathclaw uncomfortable.
“I do not like this,” the raptoid grumbled. “All these humans staring. Must we go this way?”
“Oh calm down, Deathclaw,” Beth replied. “I’m taking you this way specifically to avoid extra attention. There is a small gateway out of the city not far away from here. I know most of the guards who are posted there. They won’t give us any trouble.”
“Very well, but can you at least take your child now?” The raptoid complained. The child was clutching tightly to his hand and had one of his knuckles tucked into her mouth. Drool was running down the scales of his arm and dripping off his elbow in a long string.
“Sorry. Sherl-Ann is much happier this way. If I took her, she would just cry,” Beth said, a small smile curling the corners of her mouth.
Justan shared her amusement. “Besides, Deathclaw, carrying a baby makes you much less frightening to the locals. With her in your arms you look nearly as cuddly as Fist.”
Deathclaw hissed, knowing he was being teased and not happy with the comparison. “Must she gnaw on me like this?”
“Yes,” said Beth. “She’s a baby. That’s what they do. Don’t raptoid babies do the same?”
Deathclaw’s brow ridges tightened. “I never had a successful brood of my own. I mated many times but something happened to the clutches of eggs . . . my memory . . .” He shook his head. “There is much lost to my mind.”
Beth gave him a sympathetic look and said, “I’m sure you would have made an excellent father.”
Deathclaw smiled in agreement. “With an adult pack of my offspring I could have conquered the desert.”
The statement sounded quite arrogant, but Justan didn’t disagree. If Deathclaw’s children had been gifted with the same amount of intelligence and control over their bodies that Deathclaw had, they would have been a force indeed.
They soon reached the outskirts of the city. Roo-Tan’lan did not have a city wall on the forest side. The likelihood of invaders coming from within the forest was a small one. The wide canal that ran across the city’s edge sufficed as the borderline. The small gateway Beth had spoken of was only a city gate in the loosest sense. It was basically a set of pillars on either side of the bridge that led into the forest. The two guards that were stationed there were a surprise.
“Sir Edge!” said Poz. The academy graduate stood suddenly from the ground where he had been lounging, his back to one of the pillars.
Jhexin didn’t bother to stand, but looked up at him with a frown. “What are you doing out this way? I did not think father wanted you wandering the city without an escort.”
“I’m with Beth,” Justan replied. He raised an eyebrow at him. “What are you two doing here? You seem pretty relaxed for guard duty.”
Poz’s freckled cheeks reddened, but Jhexin wasn’t cowed. “Father wants the academy warriors to experience all the responsibilities that we Roo-Tan warriors have. He has placed me in charge of Poz’s responsibilities.”
“And you chose this post because you knew it would be easy work,” Beth surmised.
“I was-uh, just listening to my trainer, sir,” Poz said to Justan. “You know, doing things the Roo-Tan way.”
“Right,” Justan said, shaking his head in amusement. He was pretty sure that Faldon would not have approved of an academy representative taking such a lax attitude on guard duty, but it wasn’t his place to reprimand him. Justan wasn’t officially part of the academy yet. “Well, keep at it.”
They made as if to step through the gateway, but Jhexin leapt to his feet and stood in front of them, raising his arms. “Wait. Where are you going?”
“I am taking Sir Edge to the grove,” Beth said. “Now kindly step aside.”
Jhexin frowned. “I am sorry, Listener Beth, but I heard father say that he wished to speak to Sir Edge before he went to the grove.”
“Is that so?” she said. “Well, things have changed. He needs to go there now. Tolynn wishes to speak with him.”
“She does?” Jhexin started to lower his arms, then thought better of it and firmed his stance. “Still, you must wait. I will not let you leave until I hear from father.”
“We’re leaving,” Beth said firmly, her hands balled into fists.
Deathclaw held Sherl-Ann out towards her. “If you will take your child, I will clear the path.”
Jhexin’s hand went to the Jharro sword at his waist. Poz reluctantly grabbed the hilt of his own sword and gave Justan a pained look.
“That won’t be necessary,” Justan said, raising his own hand to stop things from escalating further. “Jhexin, did Xedrion specifically give the guards instructions to keep me from leaving the city?”
“No,” Jhexin admitted. “But like I said, I heard him tell you-,”
“Then get the hell out of our way,” Beth snapped.
She strode forward, forcing Jhexin to make a decision. Either he stepped aside or he’d have to restrain her physically. At the last moment, he grimaced and allowed her to shoulder past him.
“You do realize that I will be in trouble for this,” Jhexin said, his voice filled with anxiety.
“It won’t be that bad,” Justan assured him as he walked by. “I’ll likely be back before Xedrion hears I was gone.”
Beth left the bridge and took Justan down one of the pathways that led into the forest. It was a narrow trail, but well-traveled and free of undergrowth. It didn’t take long for the sounds of the city to fade behind them, replaced by the rustling of leaves and the low th
rum of buzzing insects.
Justan looked back the way they had come. “I feel bad about what we did to Jhexin and Poz back there,”
“They would not have been able to stop us,” Deathclaw replied. “At least this way they get to retain their dignity.”
“A fine point,” Beth agreed. “Come on. The grove is just a short walk ahead.”
It ended up that her idea of a short walk was a four mile trek along a twisting trail through the forest. The trees here were a mix of tall magnolias and other leafy evergreen trees with occasional palm trees mixed in. After the first mile, the valley Beth had spoken of began. As the trail sloped downwards, the air grew more humid. Justan found himself sweating profusely and swatting at tiny bugs that seemed to follow him around like a small cloud.
“Do you travel this way often, Beth?” he asked.
“A few times a week,” she replied. “More when I can. The grove is worth it. You’ll understand why when we get there.”
Do you smell it now, Justan? Gwyrtha said enthusiastically. Neither she nor Deathclaw seemed bothered by the bugs at all. It’s wonderful.
I’m not sure, Justan replied through the bond. The humidity was so thick it was hard not to gasp.
I think I smell what she’s talking about, Deathclaw sent. Sherl-Ann was fast asleep now and the raptoid was keeping his strides steady and even so as not to jostle her. It’s strange, a scent I have not experienced before.
Frowning, Justan shut his mouth and breathed in through his nose, focusing and extending the enhanced senses that his bond with Deathclaw gave him. Finally, he found what she was speaking of. “Beth, what’s that smell? It’s almost minty.”
She smiled over her shoulder at him. “You smell that already? It’s Jharro sap. Wait until you’re amongst the trees. It’s a heady experience.”
The grove . . . said a dusty voice from the corner of Justan’s mind. I remember this smell.
Artemus? Justan said, surprised. The spirit of his great grandfather had been getting stronger over the last week, gaining control of the Scralag bit-by-bit. They’d had brief conversations at night, but this was the first time he had spoken to Justan during the day. You mentioned before that you have been to the grove. What were you doing there?
Long ago . . . yes, Artemus said. It was before the war . . . I came there with John.
Justan kept talking, eager to keep Artemus alert. You did? Why?
He . . . had an errand there, the old spirit said. His voice was strained as if speaking was a struggle. He had to see to the . . . raising of a new treemaster. I happened to be traveling with him at the time. The . . . Roo-Tan soldiers did not like my presence in the grove, but the elves were quite . . . friendly.
A treemaster? Justan asked. What is that?
It’s . . . I . . . must . . . The voice faded.
Artemus are you with me? Artemus? Justan sent, but there was no reply.
“Your progenitor still struggles,” Deathclaw observed.
“Yes, but he is much stronger,” Justan replied. He was growing more confident each day that the old wizard would eventually regain full control of himself.
I like him, Gwyrtha said. He smells like old paper and tea leaves.
“What are you two talking about?” Beth asked, looking back at them.
“Beth, what’s a treemaster?” Justan said.
She blinked at him. “Well, they’re the caretakers. It’s one of the elves whose job it is to watch over a particular tree. They’re picked when they’re young and it’s a job they keep throughout their life. Each Jharro tree has one.”
“Oh,” he said. The mint-like scent was growing stronger.
Justan began to feel a bit light headed. It was similar to how he had felt when in the elven homeland of the Silvertree Sect, but more intense. The cloud of bugs that had been bothering him was gone and the forest around them was lush with vitality. The trees grew taller and wider and the soil was rich and black.
“Oh yeah, I can smell the grove now,” Beth said, smiling. “Yntri was the treemaster of his tree. It’s expected that his grandson will take his place as part of the ceremony at his funeral.”
“Oh,” Justan said. There was a faint musical hum in the air and a warm tingling sensation swept over him. With each step, the forest became both quieter and more alive at the same time.
“There is something about this place,” Deathclaw said softly.
Justan agreed. He couldn’t quite put his finger on what he was feeling, but he was excited to move forward.
Then the first Jharro tree came into view. It was as big as Justan had envisioned, but not exactly in the way he had imagined. The trunk was easily as wide as two houses, and covered in a silvery bark. But the tree was not as tall as he had expected. It was likely over 150 feet tall, but seemed squat in comparison to its width.
Justan’s jaw dropped as they walked fully into the grove. Every tree was as big as that first one or bigger. Many of the roots that stretched out from the base of these gigantic trees were twice as tall as Justan. The floor of the grove was taken up by the intertwining of these roots, with barely a patch of soil to be seen.
Justan couldn’t see how they were supposed to make their way through the grove at first. Then Beth led them up one of the roots and he saw that the tops of these great roots formed a multitude of intersecting pathways. These pathways were smooth and flat, likely formed by the will of the elves that cared for the grove.
The canopy overhead was a startling flickering layer of powder blue from the undersides of the Jharro leaves. The light that filtered through glinted off of the silvery bark of the trees, filling the grove with a soft blue glow.
The scent that had hit Justan and his bonded so hard earlier was much thicker here, but the air here wasn’t as humid as it had been in the surrounding forest and it wasn’t hard to breathe. Instead, each breath filled him with energy. Justan felt more awake and aware than he could remember. His every sense and synapse was alive.
I love it here, Gwyrtha said.
“There are no leaves on the ground,” Deathclaw commented.
“That’s true. They don’t fall often,” Beth said. She was smiling and her eyes were closed, the soft light of the grove giving her an ethereal and youthful look. “The elves spend a lot of time in the tops of the trees watching for signs of weakness. When a leaf is ready to fall, they claim it.”
“What do they do with them?” Deathclaw asked, staring up at the canopy overhead.
“Oh, there is strong magic in the Jharro leaves. Especially in the sap that fills the fleshy parts. But they have many uses for them and let nothing go to waste.”
Ah, this feeling . . . It is as I remember, but perhaps stronger, said Artemus’ voice within Justan’s mind. There was a fervent feel to his thoughts. It’s wonderful.
I think I know what you mean. There’s something sacred about this place. It’s a-. Justan felt a twinge in his chest and a sudden pulse of cold flared from the frost rune.
THE LEAVES! FREEZE THEM!
Justan clutched the front of his shirt, half expecting to feel the icy fingers of the Scralag. “Stop it, Artemus!” Keep control.
Yes. I . . . I’m sorry, Artemus replied. I’m not sure why but . . . something about this place makes the elemental quite uncomfortable. The urges coming from it are quite violent. I must retreat for now.
The chill in Justan’s chest lessened and he let out a sigh of relief. What would he have done if the Scralag had gotten loose? Was there anything he could have done to stop it?
There was a rustling in the leaves above and Justan looked up to see many dark forms clinging to the undersides of the branches overhead. He recognized immediately that these were Yntri’s people watching.
“Come this way,” Beth said, walking along one of the paths to the south. “Tolynn’s tree is over here.”
“I know,” Justan said. He could feel it pulling at him from the very center of the grove. “It’s my tree too.”
He walked along the path trying to breathe it all in, trying to catalog every moment. This place was more than special. He understood now why Jhonate’s people had kept to their vow for a thousand years.
Finally he stood before his tree. She was beautiful, one of the largest and most ancient. He reached out and touched her bark and felt a shiver rush through him as he recalled the century of memories she had shared with him when he had communed with her.
A creak issued from the tree, breaking the silence. Justan looked up in time to see a vertical crack appear in the bark of the tree a few feet above him. It widened and a slight figure stepped out from within the tree, alighting atop one of the places where a great root joined the tree.
She was an elf, with skin as dark as Yntri Yni’s, but she was not as old or leathery. There wasn’t a hair on her head, not even an eyebrow, and yet there was an ageless beauty about her. She had large dark eyes and full lips that were slightly open showing a set of bright white teeth.
Her torso and upper legs were covered completely in smooth Jharro wood that moved with her body as if it were a second skin. She carried a Jharro staff in one hand.
Her eyes alit on Justan briefly, giving him a cold glance before moving past him. “Greetings, Listener Beth. I did not expect to see you today, though the young trees will be glad of your presence.”
Justan was glad to find that he knew what she was saying. Though he could not speak it, his time spent conversing with Yntri through the wristband on his arm had given him an understanding of their language.
“Greetings, Tolynn. Actually, that is not why I’m here. I have brought someone to meet you,” Beth said and gestured to Justan. “This is Sir Edge. He is the betrothed of Jhonate bin Leeths.”
Justan looked up at the ancient elf woman and without knowing quite why, bent to one knee in front of her. “I am honored to meet the wife of Yntri Yni.”
The Ogre Apprentice Page 21
