Gift of Gold (The Year of Churning Bloods)

by Leone, Hudson

  It was an elaborate vial filled to the cork with an oily wheat coloured liquid. The unnerving heat of the object spread across my palm at a startling rate, submerging my hand in total warmth within seconds. It was almost as if this vial had been held over a fire for a while; warm enough to be unnatural, but cool enough to grip. I wondered why it had taken me this long to notice this. The curious way in which the glass refracted the light around it gave the entire body an eerie glow that expanded and contracted as if the material inside was breathing. I stared in disbelief for maybe five, ten, a hundred or so seconds, and much to my relief absolutely nothing happened during this time. Despite all notions I may have had, it was still an inanimate object.

  “But what is it? Where did it come from?” I wondered helplessly. I fumbled with the glass for a couple more seconds, examining it from all angles, before gingerly pocketing it. Could it possibly be something of Professor Wenchenberg’s? There was no one else capable or willing to give me something that strange. The idea that the professor was helping despite his position filled me with giddy pleasure. Despite that though, there were flashes of doubt.

  Assuming of course the professor wanted me to use this for the exams, he hadn’t told me what it would do, or even acknowledged its existence. The malevolent way it radiated heat suggested a great amount of power, however nothing I had ever heard of seemed to correspond to this strange substance. It could belong to the Grimlars. I reasoned with myself. What if this was just another one of their tests? To slip us a vial of poison, and kill off those who were stupid enough to drink it? The elder leading me into the room was most definitely close enough to slip me anything; he had practically been carrying me after all.

  Something metallic clicked in the distance and the great sweeping feeling of panic quickly returned, bringing with it a hive of cold shivers. Amidst this fear however, there was something slightly warm buried deep inside. Was it hope maybe? I had a plan, and I had whatever weird object was in my possession. It was entirely possible that even through my suspicions and fears, I had hope. The area around me gave a huge heaving shudder and much to my horror, the wall opposite the door began to lift up. As a new darker area gradually opened up, the room was washed with freezing air. The passage opened further and further until with a loud snap, the entire mechanism stopped and I was left facing the dark forest enclosure.

  I was instantly smacked by the vivid perfume of the muddy forest floor just beyond my line of sight and was reminded of the forest just outside my old orphanage. I stood still, drinking in the ominous chatter of wildlife just beyond my vision and found myself strangely troubled by the lack of movement just outside the flickering torchlight. After I quickly gathered all the resources I had and forcefully removed the torch flickering pitifully behind me. With a dramatic fizz, the fire sizzled out, leaving nothing but a fleeting warmth, and a burnt stick of charcoal.

  I cursed my luck, and began a brisk walk in a random direction, looking back every third step. After forty four and a half paces, I had completely lost my way. The commanding presence of the trees dominated the majority of the landscape, with their dark tentacle like limbs reaching out to stroke the thin night air. Since there were no visible landmarks, the re-occurring weave of the branches left me feeling more disoriented than I had even been before.

  Step step step look, step step step look.

  crack, check, peer, ponder, worry, wonder,

  spin, sigh, shake, look, step step step look.

  A cackling band of beast noises broke through the dense walls of the trees as some twigs broke in the distance. Fear whipped my stride into a light jog, making me desperate to escape from whatever was surrounding me. The sound of my chest rapidly expanding and contracting was the only thing my ears could filter out besides the cold crunch of the earth from beneath my feet. I had to find shelter and I had to find it fast.

  Thick gnarled roots flying before my feet acted like waves of trip wires which I desperately tried to avoid. With surprising spontaneity the terrain turned into a slope of plant life, often times so steep I had to climb with all fours. I reached the top of the bushy hillside, before my crippling lack of breath caused me to stop and pant like a feral animal. To my left was the passage I had emerged from. To my right was a spacious opening, allowing out onto a small cliff which overlooked the wall of the forest.

  I carefully peered over the cliff edge and was surprised to see a somewhat cozy dirt cavern just below where I was standing. Grabbing hold of some roots which had been tangled into a thick descending coil, I silently lowered myself into the dusty space. A chandelier of sprouts held above me was the only feature of the otherwise insignificant area before me. I froze suddenly. Had I just heard something? I quickly paced the perimeter of the enclosure while fumbling blindly to make sure that I was in fact, alone. After covering the small perimeter nearly three times over, I tied the tarp in front of the opening, and waited for the dust to settle down before gathering twigs.

  My callused hands tore at the fibres of the ceiling, uprooting whatever I could. Once I had assumed a fair sized pile of plant fibre, I frantically began fiddling with them, trying desperately to replicate what I could remember about crafting bird traps. “Over the knot once around. Or was it twice?” I heard the twig snap in my hand and I threw it down in aggravation before picking up another one. I spent so long in the darkness that my eyes began to play tricks on me. Large grey spots would swim just out of sight before disappearing as soon they were noticed. Half an hour later with careful composure, I somehow managed to craft exactly four. I timidly poked myself outside, long enough to string the snares across a few of the lower tree bristles nearby. Retreating back into the cavern, I curled myself into a tight ball and after I was sure I was free from danger, slowly rocked myself to sleep.

  Chapter two

  Shaking Hands with a Tree

  Frolic in fear,

  run and revere

  Only to find,

  Mind, that is near not your own

  I woke with a snap of consciousness that slapped me across the face and forced me to scramble to attention. I hurriedly folded up the tarp encasing the opening and was stunned by the heaviness of the clouds in the sky. Disappointment set in as I examined three of the snares I had made from yesterday which all looked quite empty. The fourth one had unraveled itself, possibly due to a faulty knot. I untied the three that were still intact before throwing them into my knapsack, and setting off away from the forest wall.

  A single scream pierced the early morning air before alarmingly stopping. Startled horribly, I ripped my sword out and flipped to my right where the sound had emanated from, however there appeared to be nothing but a lofty passageway leading onto a gentle path. I ignored this and instead carried on forward, traversing the difficult terrain as an alternative. The once nutrient dense landscape around me faded into oblivion as I continued my advance. Up and up a withered dirt plateau I climbed noticing with alarm how the earth had become a pale, pasty gray. A freezing wave of air blasted into me as I finished my ascent, forcing my eyes away from quite possibly the largest plane of flat space I had ever seen. Colorless cracked earth shot in every direction, with finger like gaps ripping apart the lifeless landscape before me. For what felt like miles, there appeared to be nothing but the carcass of gray soil.

  The only things that could be seen in the immediate area were dozens of table sized boulders which peered at me from afar. I considered doubling back however something off in the distance caught my attention. Plastered behind the everlasting space rested a single mountain peak scraping the underside of the sky. Unmistakably this was the podium. With such a direct route, it seemed utter madness to make a detour that could sacrifice many precious hours. In an attempt to shrug off the cold, I crossed my arms and began to walk as fast as my legs would allow. Before long. All traces of the vegetation behind me had vanished completely, leaving me with nothing but my thoughts.

  ***

  I swallowed hard and my dry throat pri
ckled up like it was full of pins. I‘d been walking for maybe four hours, and it felt like I was no closer to my destination than before. I tried experimentally picking at the chilly flakes of dirt below me and was startled to find that it was just about as hard as any other rock. With great effort I managed to break apart a small pile of the dry soil. I sighed, realizing that digging for water was not an option. Every step I took, I hopelessly stared off into the distance for anything of any new significance, however my gaze was always met by the same cold horizon before me. The only features that suggested I was moving any closer to my destination were the snares of cracks rushing below my feet and the occasional boulder, slowly rolling past my line of sight. Despite the thick blanket of clouds smothering the sky, it was apparent that the sun was soon about to set.

  I doubled my pace in the hopes that I wouldn’t need to sleep in this empty space. I deepened my breathing and was pleased to find my vision grow sharper. If I had to rest, I would rest in the morning when it was at least a little warmer. The lack of light was initially quite disturbing, however after a while, some of the clouds parted, letting the moonlight reflect off of the pale landscape and giving my surroundings an eerie glow. Off in the distance, the peculiar sound of metal clicking ticked away like a maniacal clock.

  I stopped suddenly and frantically tried to look for the source. A small rock a little larger than my head began to tremble violently. Without even bothering to question why, I drew my sword and struck it. A sharp note pierced the air as my weapon reverberated from the impact, however the rock looked undamaged. Four sharp pieces of thick metal suddenly protruded from the discoloured exterior of the rock, acting like limbs of some kind. I struck again, however two more sharpened metallic bits emerged from the front, blocking my assault.

  What was once no more than a small boulder, had now assembled itself into a golem like construct, similar in structure to an arthropod. The body was completely beige save for the front of the creature which glowed like a burning piece of coal. Supporting the base of the creature were four, dagger like legs, and just above those were two more extensions resembling iron swords.

  The contraption lunged at me faster than I could have anticipated and slashed the base of my leg, causing a painful wound to open up along my calf. Flailing my weapon, I tried in desperation to ward off the incoming blows. After sidestepping one of my lopsided lunges, the creation scuttled forward and slashed at the same leg but this time higher up. No physical contact was made, yet I felt a shift in weight accompanied by the sound of fabric being sliced. The key to the podium fell from my torn sack pocket, landing with a dusty thud on the earth. The creature ignored me completely and raced towards it with its claws outstretched. It wasn’t me the machine was after, it just wanted the key!

  Jumping to the side, I managed to kick the podium key away from me, sending a cloud of dust into the air as it skittered away. Bringing my sword down in front of the creature, I revolved around it long enough to pick the key up and hold it out. The red hot stone in the middle of its spherical body followed it with earnest desire. Instinctively I jabbed my sword forward, and much to my relief saw that the sword stuck into the red section of the thing like a warm knife in butter. The vicious clicking ceased and without so much as a dying spasm, all movement from the golem suddenly stopped. The rock hide of the being slowly crumbled away leaving nothing but the rusted limbs and the strange crimson substance which fizzed slightly as it was exposed to the cold night air.

  Somewhat curious, I touched it apprehensively and was intrigued to find that it was cool to the touch. It looked identical to the mounds of coal I had to mine every day, save for its intense and blinding maroon colour. With exciting comprehension, it occurred to me that I did know what this red rock was. In the book: Defending from the magical arts: It described a material known as “Arkoal.” A naturally occurring rock, embedded with vast amounts of energy. The mages used these rocks as storage cells to keep and then transfer their power when they needed it.

  “The Grimlars must have used it to power that strange mechanism,” I thought to myself, turning the arkoal over in my fingers. Before I had time to do anything else however, the ominous clicking noise had begun to sound again. I looked up and instinctively leapt back, however the rattling continued to intensify. As the boulders began to move, the earth shook as if it weighed no more than a bedsheet. One by one, each rock assembled itself into a golem much like the one I had struggled with before. There were dozens, maybe even hundreds. The arkoal fell out of my hand and onto the ground as every muscle in my body went limp from fear.

  Looking back, it was horrible to think that someone had created these machines with such a profound understanding of warfare. It was evil like I had never seen it and yet I couldn’t even run. A strange disturbance around my feet caused me to glance down, and stare in awe at the spot the arkoal had fallen. As if disregarding the laws of time altogether, a sapling began to grow alongside a ring of vivid green grass which extended out in all directions. The growth spread a resurring warmth throughout the cold emptiness which in turn caused the wind to pick up. As the grass strolled out to meet the mechanisms, they all began to back away.

  I blinked and continued to stare with uncomprehending eyes. It had been years since I had seen grass, but I remembered it well. It was that soft sort of plant that littered the grounds outside of the orphanage and made you all itchy. “Where did it come from?” I wondered. “And why aren’t they coming any closer? What’s stopping them?” The sapling in the middle of the field was growing much quicker than it should have been possible. Within only a few seconds, it was as large as any other tree. I realized after a moment that it was leaning towards me with all branches folded back except for one. The branch that was extended calmly folded it’s limb towards itself before extending it and repeating the motion. It was an urgent movement yet unmistakably.

  I took a single step towards the tree and the movement deepened. When I was close enough to touch, it had stopped almost completely. To my absolute awe, I saw that the tree branches on the limb had melted together to form a perfectly carved replica of a human hand. I apprehensively wrapped my own palm around the smooth grainy wood, and slowly shook the hand of the tree. It was so silly and unexpected, I couldn’t help but laugh at the sheer impossibility. Without letting my hand go, the tree resumed its unusual growth, taking me into the air with it. I screamed in alarm, but was immediately reassured by the tight grip of the strange life form ferrying me to the clouds.

  “This can’t be real.” I said to myself, shaking my head again and again. “I should be dead.” The gentle inflation of the tree branches eventually ceased after a few more seconds in heightened silence. Multiple large branches swept under me, providing me with enough room to sit in comfort as I watched over The Forest. The mechanisms paced around from below, marching in perfect formation around my dense circle of plant life. The large golems were supported by as many as six-oversized metal pikes, with a dozen or so arms which often times flailed around blindly. A few of the medium sized ones carried flat steel blades which I imagine could be used as projectiles. All of them however, contained some of the gleaming arkoal.

  “Why did the arkoal react like that?” I wondered. “What was so special about the ground to make all of this?” There had to be something in the earth, but the colourless land contained not drop of water, nor a scent, nor a colour. The dirt seemed to be a shadow of life itself, reflecting the surrounding land as if doing some strange interpretation.

  I blinked and reconsidered. When the arkoal was taken in by the earth, it turned a small patch of ground normal. That must have meant that the grey ground was abnormal somehow. Perhaps it was made by the Grimlars? For what reason though?

  I scratched my head and frowned even deeper. That still didn’t make any sense. Why would these golems be unable to walk on a patch of normal land? I blinked and gave a huge shuddering sigh, suddenly realizing how tired I was. I would answer these questions later. I would find an
swers to everything, but at that moment, I wanted nothing more than to rest.

  “I’m alive,” I whispered, hugging myself a little. “I’m alive.” It was a beautiful sentence to say after such a long time, so I continued to repeat it until it lost all meaning to me. Looking out to the cloudy north, I could see that I was no more than a few miles from the gargantuan base of the podium, a distance I could easily make in the morning. Comforted by the reassuring knowledge that I would live through another night, I carefully closed my eyes, shifted in my seat and fell asleep.

  ***

  As I slowly woke up, I let out a healthy yawn and stretched from side to side while keeping my eyes closed. Much to my surprise however, I didn’t feel any of the tree branches through the movement. With some degree of concern, I cracked a single eye open, and saw that was no tree. There was no grass. I was lying on the cold ground, exactly the way it was the previous day.

  I stood up, and turned around to get a better look. There was nothing there but a peice of arkoal. Despite still being bright red, it seemed to have lost its inner glow. Was it ever glowing to begin with? I carefully picked it up and put it in my pocket, thinking that it might be of use later. “So it was a dream?” I wondered, quickly looking around. I now noticed that there were a ring of boulders surrounding me in a perfect circle. I was sure that they hadn’t been there before.

  I apprehensively sidled up to one of the larger ones and placed my hand on it. Cold and clammy, the rock neither moved nor reacted to my touch and instead felt exactly like how a rock should feel. A few minutes passed where I didn’t do anything. I just sat there, stupidly looking up to the sky and trying to ignore my thirst. I got to my feet and stumbled off in a scatter-minded fashion, only vaguely aware of the direction I was going in. “Perhaps I should try drinking the clouds,” I mumbled wearily. The suggestion was so earnest and so full of hope, I had no choice but to bend my will to the slippery insanity. Jumping off one foot then the other, I sucked in air with all my might before tumbling dramatically to the ground and earning myself a drink of dry dust.