“There is something different about this Heart Tree,” said Nas. “They are not supposed to be able to move.”
“Move!” cried Grum. “You told me a Heart Tree cannot move.”
Nas scoffed and said: “I never said such a thing, young blacksmith. And no, they are not supposed to be able to move, but this one is able to, which is very strange.”
“Must have been Pressan who told me,” grumbled Grum to his friends. “That tree had better not start walking else I will strike it with my hammer.”
“Strange or not, let us finish our work here,” said Cormac. He strode towards the tree’s roots and took aim at the next largest root.
But before he could strike, a strange voice spoke, and all eyes turned towards the speaker. Cormac lowered his sword.
Grum asked: “Where did he come from?”
“I think he came from the pond,” answered Farling.
Before them stood a young man but not like any person Farling had ever seen. It was if the stranger was dressed all in red, but not an orange red like the Aarlunder’s color of hair, more like blood red, which appeared almost black. The light from the sun shone and sparkled off the stranger as sunlight would do off the surface of water. And his voice sounded strange as well, as if he was not used to conversation.
The stranger asked: “What are you doing?” Why did you hurt my tree?”
Nas interrupted, said: “I will answer, Your Majesty.” He walked close to the stranger. “What are you?”
“My tree is hurt,” said the stranger. “Why did you hurt my tree?”
“The tree drinks from the pond and empties it. We cannot allow that to happen.”
“But you hurt my tree.”
“The tree cannot live, else it will drain the pond, and open a door.”
The stranger cradled his head in his hands. “Not fair, not fair,” he mumbled. He lowered his hands and stared defiantly at everyone. “This tree is mine.”
“You are the tree’s guardian?”
“I am the tree; the tree is me. I am not the guardian of the tree. The tree is the guardian of me.”
“Who or what are you?”
“I am the tree.”
“Heart Trees do not have dryads.”
“I am not a dryad. I am the tree.”
“Wait a moment,” said Nas and turned to talk to everyone. While he spoke, the dryad moved to the severed root and lightly caressed it, causing it to heal.
Nas whispered: “This is no ordinary Heart Tree. Looking at the dryad, it appears as if the dryad is blood. Blood from the pond that walks and talks, thinks it is a person.”
“Impossible,” said Frederick. “I may not be familiar with dryads and Heart Trees, but I find it incredibly hard to believe that that young man is a creature of blood that walks, breaths, and thinks.”
Nas nodded, said: “I too find it hard to believe, Your Majesty. But the blood from the pond is the blood of wizards. And it has magic properties. Somehow the tree created a companion. A guardian of sorts, something that can speak to people as the tree obviously cannot talk.”
Cormac grunted. “Then if the dryad, for lack of a better name, as the creature has not given us his name, is bound by magic, then my sword will cut him, will sever his bonds of magic, and he should simply return to blood and flow back into the pond,” he said.
“Agreed,” said Frederick and Nas.
Cormac nodded, then advanced on the dryad. The dryad had his back turned to Cormac as the dryad continued to soothe the tree.
And as Cormac raised his sword, the dryad turned and looked up at him. His eyes went wide with fear and his mouth hung open. For some reason, Cormac stayed his sword.
The dryad said; “I remember. I was killed here so many years ago. Like this, I was struck from behind; with a shovel. I loved growing vegetables in gardens. I remember. My master brought me here, explained things to me. What did he say again? It is so hard to remember. It is such a fog. Ah yes, he said the pond was magic. I thought it was simply black tar, like the tar we used to cover the holes and cracks in our buildings. He said it was a door, something that had to be opened. There are people who live on the other side, people who want to return to Midgard. People who will bring order to this realm, cleanse it, make it better, bring it back to the old ways. This is what my master told me. The sapling would grow into a tree and its roots would drain the pond-like door, thin it so that the door would become weak and could be opened. I loved growing things in my garden at the stronghold in Aarlund. I was asked by my master to help him plant and grow the tree. And I did. I planted the tree and my blood fed the tree till it grew strong enough to reach its roots into the pond. I am the tree; the tree is me.”
“What else do you remember?” asked Cormac, still unable to strike.
“Nothing. But then one day I woke as if from a dream, a nightmare. I thought I had been killed, but I still lived. But things were different. I could not move far from my tree. I am the tree; the tree is me. Everything the tree feels, I feel. When the wind blows through its leaves, I feel the wind. When the sun shines on its leaves, I feel the sun’s warmth.”
“Do you remember who killed you?”
“He had a name. It was so long ago. Another life. There were other boys, other initiates. Yes, that’s it. I was an initiate. I worked at a stronghold, a castle of sorts, in Aarlund. I lived on the streets of Pitcairn. Then I worked at the stronghold. I grew vegetables. I loved growing things. I helped grow the Heart Tree. I am the tree; the tree is me.”
“It must have grown over you over time, over your skeleton. I am sure underneath the Heart Tree’s roots we would find your bones.”
The dryad now stood and his voice became harsh. Said: “I am hungry. I hurt. I need to heal. I need to eat.”
Nas urgently hissed to Cormac: “It is not a person any longer. If it is the tree, then we must destroy it as well.”
Cormac nodded as he raised his sword.
The dryad’s eyes looked worried. Said: “You mean to strike me? I will not die again.”
And as Cormac’s sword streaked down towards the dryad’s neck, faster than the eye could see, one of the tree’s roots struck Cormac in the chest, flinging him backwards. Somehow, the Aarlund brothers managed to catch their king by the shoulders, holding him upright.
Eithlenn cried: “Our Majesty, are you hurt?”
Cormac dazedly answered: “What struck me? I did not see it. It felt like a bull.”
Nas said: “One of the tree’s roots struck you before you could fell the dryad.”
“I may have some damaged ribs. It was a mighty blow that tree root struck. Nas, is there anything you can do for my pain?”
“I may have something in one of my pouches,” answered Nas. “But it is your daughter, or that Paupers Temple priest, Sihr, who are the healers. I will be right back. Comfort your king.”
The Aarlund brothers lay Cormac on the ground gently, putting some jackets under his head as a pillow.
Grum now looked thoroughly worried as did the others. “I thought we were told that the Heart Tree could not move,” he said. “That tree moved, even if it was just one root.”
Farling looked around, then bent over and picked up a bone. “That is what caused all the bones,” he said getting everyone’s attention.
“The Heart Tree draws blood from the pond,” he continued, “but it must also sustain its dryad. That means the tree needs more blood. So, when animals came near just out of sheer curiosity, the roots from the tree would strike like a hungry snake. And it would drain the poor creature of all its blood. And if it was a small animal, its cries might have attracted other animals, say like the sound a hurt rabbit might make to attract a wolf. And so the tree would have more nourishment. But you can see, it created a circle, as the roots could only reach so far. I imagine over the years, as the roots became longer, the circle grew wider.”
Nas had returned with some salves but Cormac waved him off.
“I am fine, Nas,” sai
d Cormac as he stood up. “What is in the saddlebags?”
“Your daughter will still need to heal you. As to the saddlebags, something I was not too sure we need, but now realize we do. If I cannot, someone must empty the contents of the saddlebags into the pond.”
“Why into the pond?” asked Arastead.
“You will see,” said Nas mysteriously.
“Why not do it now?” asked Grum. “If it gives us an advantage, let us use it now.”
Nas shook his head and said: “It is poison to the tree. But I only want to poison it if we have no choice. I am worried it may also weaken the integrity of the Unbreakable Barrier, so I hesitate to use it.”
Everyone stopped as the dryad now talked in a loud voice: “I am hungry. I hurt. I need to heal. I need to eat.”
In awe of the talking dryad, Grum asked: “Do you think it means to drain us of our blood?”
“I do not think it wants a hug,” replied Farling as he readied his shield and sword.
“Circle the tree!” barked Frederick. “It cannot attack us all at once.”
As everyone moved into place, waiting for the tree to attack, they heard a loud howling in the distance.
“Wolves?” asked Cruithni.
“Wolves do not howl during the day,” answered his brother, Eithlenn.
“There is another animal cry in there as well,” said Tuathail. “Sounds like bear to me.”
“And I hear a cat’s cry, like a panther,” said Airthear.
“The were-beasts,” said Nas. “They approach.”
Einar said: “And so we are caught between a rock and a hard place. Thieves are not usually found in this predicament. We usually have a way out.”
“Agreed,” said Melgund. “A good thief always goes into a situation knowing all the ways to hide or retreat without being caught if the situation sours.”
“Well, there is only one door near here,” said Einar, “but it is the Alfheim Gateway.”
“And it is behind the Unbreakable Barrier,” added Melgund.
“Then we are like the prey caught between a Heart Tree and were-beasts.”
“Exactly.”
The dryad too had heard the animal cries and did not move. Neither did the Heart Tree’s roots, which everyone still watched carefully.
It did not take long for the were-beasts and the animals to appear.
“Grum,” said Cruithni, “grab your bow, let us see if we can pincushion some of those were-beasts or their animals before they get too close.”
“Agreed,” said Grum and in a few minutes, both had grabbed their bows and arrows from their horses.
Cruithni yelled at the horses: “Off with you!” and scared them away. “Best they leave. And if we win, the horses should come back in a while.”
Grum said: “I was hoping to wear my gloves of strength, but it appears I must play by the rules.” He removed his gloves and belt and laid them at his feet.
Nas said: “Aim for the were-beasts. If you can kill one, the animals that follow it should disperse. The rest of us, we must end the Heart Tree before the were-beasts attack.”
“Behind me!” cried Farling, and as he charged the Heart Tree, the dryad focused on him. Roots that looked dormant now moved like whips. And amid the flailing roots calmly stood the dryad, his gaze barely wavering.
Directly behind Farling was Cormac and as a root struck Farling’s shield, Cormac would strike at the root, severing it. Blood spurted from the severed root and as the blood struck the ground, it would make its way back into the pond.
To the other side, Frederick held his ground with his long spear, holding the roots at bay, scratching them where he could.
Between the three of them, they held the Heart Tree and the dryad to a momentary standstill.
“The tree looks to be weakening,” said Farling between gasps of air. “It has pulled almost all of its roots out of the pond and so is not feeding.”
“Let us press our attack then!” cried Cormac as Farling advanced step by step towards the dryad and the tree.
Behind them, the howls of the were-beasts and their animals rang in their ears but Farling dared not steal a look.
Grum and Cruithni were down to their last arrows. They had struck wolf, bear, and panther, but none of the were-beasts. The were-beasts were too fast and the only arrow that did look as if they would strike, the were-beast merely caught the arrow in one hand.
“The bears,” started Cruithni, “take out the bears, young Grum, as I would rather fight a wolf or a panther than a large bear.”
“Agreed,” said Grum using his last arrow to strike a bear above the left shoulder, wounding it enough that it would not fight. He threw his bow to one side, donned his belt, put on his gloves and picked up his war hammer.
Cruithni armed himself with two short swords, the preferred weapon of the archer in hand-to-hand combat.
The were-beasts pulled up to stop as did their animal followers.
Kees, the were-cat, stared at Peg, Arastead’s cat and familiar. He whispered under his breath, but Peg only hissed and spat, her fur rising on end.
Asbjorn, the were-rat, laughed at Kees. Said: “It appears you cannot control all cats.”
Peg continued to growl from the safety of Arastead’s shoulders. She stared at all the panthers that had gathered near Kees. After a few moments, all the panthers shook their heads, and their eyes cleared. They looked around at their surroundings as if recognizing it for the first time, then turned and ran away.
Arastead petted Peg affectionately. “Well done,” he whispered. Peg purred happily.
Asbjorn laughed aloud. “And now you cannot control even your own cats!” He wiped a tear from one eye he was laughing so hard.
Kees punched Asbjorn hard in the face. In a flash, they were throwing punches and kicks at each other as furiously as they could.
Liulfr, the leader of the were-beasts, sighed. Said: “Beornheard, break those two up.”
Beornheard, the were-bear and the biggest of the were-beasts, grabbed Asbjorn and Kees by the back of their jackets, lifting them both off the ground and separating them. He shook them till they stopped fighting. His bears growled behind him.
Liulfr said: “We are here to fight the Dennlanders and Aarlunders, not each other.”
In a hurt voice, Kees said: “My cats deserted me and he teased me about it.”
“You are not children!” yelled Liulfr. “We are here to kill the kings and their followers and protect the Heart Tree. The Alfheim Gateway must be opened.”
Kees mumbled: “At least my cats were strong enough to follow us here, unlike your weak rats.”
Asbjorn threw a punch at Kees and the two began fighting again, until Beornheard stepped in-between and pushed them apart.
Now it was the wolves who growled, sensing Liulfr’s frustration.
Liulfr glared at Kees and Asbjorn. “Are you two ready to fight?” he demanded.
They nodded, their eyes glaring back fiercely at Liulfr.
“Good. First, Beornheard, let us send in our wolves and bears. Then we will come in and fight anyone left standing.”
The wolves and bears ran through the grass and then across the rocks and bones. As they did, the dryad turned and looked at the new intruders.
“I am hungry,” said the dryad. “I hurt. I need to heal. I need to eat.”
The last remaining roots not keeping Farling, Frederick, and Cormac at bay now attacked the wolves and bears.
As quick as thought, the roots wrapped themselves around the animals cracking bones and squeezing their breath. The roots then began tearing through the animals’ skin and started to draw blood. The animals cried in pain. The dryad smiled.
Liulfr looked at the attack on the wolves and bears with horror. It was as if he felt the pain all the attacked wolves felt. He groaned: “I must protect my wolves. This Heart Tree must be stopped!”
Kees growled: “Alchemist said not to hurt the Heart Tree.”
“I do not
care what father said, that tree is hurting my children, it must be stopped. Attack!”
The were-beasts now joined the battle against the Heart Tree. Furiously they struck at the roots that were harming the wolves and bears, but to little or no effect as their weapons had no magical properties.
Then the dryad sniffed the air. “I smell magic,” it said. “I smell alchemy in those boys’ blood. Their blood will make me stronger, will heal me, will feed me.”
And with a wave of the dryad’s hand, the Heart Tree’s roots now struck at the were-beasts.
The were-beasts fought back but as their weapons had no effect on the tree’s roots, they were soon overpowered, one by one. Even with their great strength, they could not tear apart the roots or fend them off. And like the wolves and bears, the roots began squeezing the life out of them.
With the dryad distracted, Farling stole a glance at the were-beasts and said: “I know the were-beasts are our enemies, but I cannot stand idly by and watch as the Heart Tree drains them dry.”
“Agreed,” said Cormac.
“I think we need more help,” said Frederick. “We are at a standstill; the tide of this battle must shift in our direction.”
Cormac yelled: “Nas! Now is the time to pour whatever those saddlebags into the pond!”
Nas nodded, and ran for the saddlebags. As he started to open the bags, a root came from nowhere and struck him heavily on his head. Nas crumpled to the ground, unconscious.
The dryad smiled and said: “I cannot have you poison the pond. That is not fair. I have already died once, I will not die again. The Heart Tree is immortal. I am the tree; the tree is me. I will live forever.”
Frederick cried: “O foolish dryad, do you not see! Once the pond is drained, you will not have any more blood to drink. And then you will die.”
A confused look crossed the dryad’s face. “There will always be animals that come within range of my roots,” he replied.
“Not unless we build a fence around your tree, beyond the range of your roots. Then no animal will come near and you will die.”
The dryad looked worried. Said: “The elves will protect me. They will feed me. Once the gateway opens, I will be rewarded.”
The Prophecy of Asgard Page 12
