by Candy Crum
The walls and roofs were made of live trees. They planted small, strong trees or even bamboo and controlled how they grew, coaxing them to bend in certain ways to allow their inhabitants to be surrounded by life. The homes were unique to each druid and always beautiful.
“Have a seat,” the Chieftain said. “I understand we have some important things to discuss.”
Arryn nodded. “Yeah, I guess so. I kinda get the feeling there’s a big secret everyone’s been keeping from me.”
“You trust us, yes?” he asked, the corners of his eyes wrinkling as he smiled.
Though he was almost eighty years old, he appeared to be closer to fifty. Druids aged very slowly because of their healing abilities and pure, stress-free way of life. It was nothing for a druid to live to be well over a hundred years.
While the Chieftain was the first to learn the magic, others in the tribe were much older and had proven just how much nature magic can work to heal its user.
Several of the older druids were several years past their first century, even though they'd first been wanderers and then Arcadian before finding their true place in the world with the Chieftain in the Dark Forest some forty years ago.
“I do. I always have. You kept a promise to an Arcadian couple you never met. You took me in and cared for me, and you taught me your magic and ways of life and much more. I’ve never been treated like an outsider. I’ve always been family here. So, yes. I trust you—which is why this is so confusing.”
Elysia sat on a small blanket across from Arryn, shifting to get comfortable. “I know things seem confusing, but I promise, if you try to see things through our eyes, you’ll come to understand.”
Arryn took a deep breath, steeling herself for whatever was about to come. “Alright then. Let's have it. I’m ready.”
There was a pause as Elysia gathered her thoughts. “A few weeks ago, an old man came here. Do you remember?”
“Yeah. He came late at night with a younger guy, and you went to meet them. I ended up training with Cathillian all night because he couldn’t sleep. They were gone by morning, so I never got to meet them. When I asked Cathillian about them, he said it’s not uncommon for people to wander through every so often—which now that I think about it is a damn lie. Unless they come through that raging river, they ain’t getting through that barrier we have. Not unless they use magic.”
The Chieftain took a drink of coffee from a clay cup he had sitting between his legs. It was his favorite. Tea had been their main drink of choice—minus the delicious sweet wine that they made—but they wanted something new.
They’d spent quite a bit of time growing and nurturing the Arabica beans so they could flourish in their area, and it was well worth the effort for the Chieftain, much to the dismay of his daughter.
It made him even more hyper than normal, and it drove Elysia crazy.
He sat the cup back down and nodded. “That’s very true. We’ve had a few visitors throughout the years, but they mostly come by way of the river. It’s far too strenuous of a task for a non-druid to cross the walls we’ve created to protect the Dark Forest. However, Ezekiel, the man that came to see me, was no ordinary man.”
Arryn’s brows furrowed as she saw a smile cross the Chieftain’s face. “Then who was he? And why did Cathillian lie about that?”
“Cathillian was doing as he was told. I'm sorry. But it'll all make sense soon enough. As I said, the visitor’s name is Ezekiel, though, I’m sure you probably heard him called by a much different name while in Arcadia. Ezekiel is the Founder,” he answered.
Arryn’s poor eyelids were getting a workout this morning. They lifted again in shock. “The Founder? No one thought it was pertinent information that the damn Founder was here?” She sat back then, reining in her excitement when she realized she’d accidentally cursed in front of the Chieftain. “Sorry, but that’s huge!”
“Bigger than you know.” He fidgeted with his coffee cup before sitting it on the floor next to him. “Magic was taught to Ezekiel, and he chose three students. Selah, the mystic, Adrien, and myself. We were all Arcadians then, but eventually went our separate ways. Each of us had our different ideas of what magic could be, and we each formed our own community. Well, with the exception of Adrien, of course. He had the help of the Founder, but ripped apart the spirit of everything Ezekiel had wanted. Ezekiel was the one who taught me how to use nature magic, and I used that knowledge to teach my people.”
Arryn snorted. “I’m glad to see not all his students were ass—jerks.” She cleared her throat, once again regretful of the slip. “Anyway… Why was he here?”
“He came to us for aid,” Elysia said. “The rebellion was growing, and Adrien and his deranged followers had already killed a lot of people. Children even. Ezekiel came to us for assistance, but we couldn’t risk it. They’d already lost so many as it was. There was no way we’d risk losing a large number of our own for a war that wasn’t ours. That being said, even knowing how dangerous it was, not everyone felt the way we did.”
Arryn caught the emphasis in Elysia’s words. “No? Then who wanted to help? Besides me, of course. I would have in a heartbeat, which tells me that’s what all the lies were for. To prevent that.”
There was a brief pause before she remembered something she hadn’t put much thought into until right then. Realization struck Arryn as things started falling into place.
Druids were very protective of one another. There were different bloodlines among the community, but everyone was considered family. They stuck close together, and almost no one left.
If someone did want to leave, be it for traveling to one of the other druid communities, hunting on their own, or even being as adventurous as traveling to a city, they had to pass a test called the Versuch.
The Versuch was a rite of passage that all druids were able to take advantage of, but very few did unless they wanted to marry—forcing them to travel to another tribe to find someone.
It wasn’t something that was taken lightly.
The druid that wanted to leave was pitted against another older, stronger druid. A warrior. The leaving member must go through all three trials—hand-to-hand combat, weapons, and of course, magic—and come out the victor of all three. There is no room for error. All three are vital.
And a young druid had recently done this. Privately.
“Laurel,” Arryn said. It was more of a statement than a question. She hadn’t really considered the timeline, but it was too perfect to be inaccurate. “You sent Laurel with them.”
“It wasn’t our plan to send her,” the Chieftain said. “She wanted to go. You know Laurel. She’s very much like Cathillian was when he was a kid. Very adventurous and mischievous. It wasn’t until he was attacked by the very lycanthrope your mother saved him from that he realized exactly why we have these rules in place. You have to understand—she was of age. She was old enough to take the Versuch. She spoke the words of her own volition. It would’ve been unlawful for me to deny her the opportunity.”
Arryn laughed, but it was less amused and more sarcastic in nature. “But you would deny me, and I’m a full three years older? That’s OK, right?”
“Arryn!” Elysia scolded. “You may be angry, but show some respect.”
“Respect? Laurel just turned sixteen. That was barely old enough for the Versuch. Why was I not even given the option?” Arryn was pissed to say the least. It took all she had to keep her voice down, but she managed out of her love for the two Elders in front of her. “When I sat on the edge of the Kalt today, listening to that rearick tell us there was a battle that liberated Arcadia—I was so proud of them. Proud of my people.”
Arryn regretted the use of those words when she saw the hurt look on Elysia’s face, but her passion was high, and it stopped her from properly filtering her thoughts before speaking.
“What I mean by that,” Arryn continued, “is that I felt pride. The people my parents fought for—and that my mother died for—finally took a s
tand. The resistance won. But now—now, that pride is overshadowed by regret. I could’ve been there. I should have been there. I’m old enough. I’m strong enough. They built an army! All I had to do was help! I am strong enough for that. To know that I could have aided them in their fight, that I could have finished what my parents started…” She paused, a tear sliding down her cheek. “You speak of respect, yet you thought it was OK to deny me the right to avenge my parents.”
Arryn was shocked by her own bravery at that moment; speaking up for herself to the Elders was a big deal.
Elysia sighed. “I made a promise to your mother that I’d keep you safe. Mother to mother, no vow is more sacred than that.”
There was a pregnant pause as Arryn locked eyes with Elysia, slowly shaking her head in disbelief.
“What of a vow from child to mother? What of the promises I made? I swore I’d go back when I was strong enough. I promised her I would end Adrien and seek justice for her death and my father’s disappearance. When it was a group of anonymous rebels—that was fine. No one could have predicted that, so I can’t be blamed for not joining. But now that I know they came knocking on our door for help, and I was led away to be lied to…”
Arryn stopped, taking a deep breath to regain control. “I understand you love me. I love you, too. I will always love you. But this is the official notice. If you consider me family, then you consider me druid enough to follow your laws.”
“We do,” Elysia said, her voice almost seemed desperate. It was obvious to Arryn she was fighting back emotion of her own. “We do consider you family.”
Arryn nodded. “Good. Then find your warrior.”
Elysia shook her head, her eyes widening. “Please, no. Don’t say the words. You’re not ready yet. I told you that you underestimate yourself, but this wasn't what I meant for you to do.”
Arryn gave a sad smile before reaching for Elysia’s hand. “I know, but I am ready, and I’ll prove it.” She turned to the Chieftain, her shoulders square, and her head held high. “Chieftain—I request Versuch.”
4
The Dean’s office was quite welcoming. So warm and beautifully decorated. Neutral colors on the walls mixed beautifully with the hand-crafted furniture with vibrant reds and golds in the fabric. The desk was quite beautiful with a large basket of fruit in the middle. It seemed there had been a lot of time and care taken to make the new Dean of Students feel at home.
And Talia hated it.
Even the smell annoyed her, but that was the least of her worries.
There would be a lot of work to be done to get the school back in order after all that happened. Though classes were back in session, everyone was taking it easy with some of the curriculum.
The faculty had been shaved down quite a bit due to so many of them being on Adrien’s side or simply hating the idea of what they considered “Boulevard scum” joining in their classes.
Those professors still needed to be replaced—a job that Talia would have to do now that she had the Dean’s position. The application process for staff would be far more tedious than that of the students—as it should have been all along, but wasn’t.
Because of the lack of staff, the current teachers were overwhelmed with bringing in the new students from the Boulevard and teaching the basics. Those students’ skills would have to be built from the ground up.
Quite a few had very little—if any—experience with magic due to Adrien’s laws and the fear of the Guard marking them as Unlawful. The Prophet’s deviant Disciples made it so much worse.
A lot of those from the Boulevard that actually had any talent were hunted and brutally murdered. That left a lot of people with no knowledge of magic that desperately wanted to learn. Luckily, several magic users emerged during the great battle which gave them enough of a foundation that it relieved some of the tension.
Previous students that were still enrolled had taken on more of a Teacher’s Aide role, which was a bigger help to the teachers that were still employed than they could comprehend.
All that aside, Talia still had a stack of applications to go through. They were only a formality, as any student with a will to learn and a good conscience was accepted, but she wanted to learn every face and every name.
It was important to her to know anyone coming in or going out. She would need to if things were to go her way.
She slid a few papers across her desk, an annoyed groan escaping her when their edges met with the basket of fruit on the back edge. She wanted to throw the damn thing out, but forced herself to keep it for show.
Instead, she’d opened it and removed two pieces of fruit—immediately tossing them in the trash before throwing an application for employment in on top to hide them. It wasn’t that she didn’t like fruit; she just didn’t exactly trust the Chancellor.
Amelia was nice. Too nice.
No one was that sweet without a motive. And seeing as there was recently a coup on the last Chancellor, and Amelia was suspiciously in his seat—well, that told Talia all she needed to know. Besides, she was convinced there was a lot more to the story that she wasn’t being told, and she planned to find exactly what that was.
Talia sat back in her chair and massaged the bridge of her nose. Over the next few days, she would be expected to sit in on several classes as well as multiple interviews.
The oh-so lovely Amelia had asked her to sit in on the History classes to catch her up. She would need to learn the true history of Arcadia and of the Founder. Not only was Talia placed in the Dean position, but until there were enough teachers, she would play that part as well.
All this was her fault for showing her ass in the interview. Her magic was strong. Strong enough to make even Amelia raise her brows.
Talia had wanted to make sure that she would be the one chosen. That required skill, precision, undeniable confidence, and intelligence. All things she possessed in excess.
It was a balancing act to show her abilities without coming off cocky or rude. Lots of fake smiles helped with that one. Personal communications wasn’t her strong point. Still… Talia had to have the job.
She needed it.
As she reminded herself of that fact—her necessity for the position that she held—she let out a heavy sigh. Leaning forward, she opened the bottom drawer of her desk. Inside was a small box sealed with a magitech lock. She placed the box on her desk before removing her necklace.
She held the elongated, silver pendant in her hand, running her thumb over the large, blue stone in the middle as she smiled. It had been a gift from her father—a man she’d spent limited hours with once a month or so until the year before his death—who she loved more than anything.
She understood why he’d made the decisions that he did. To do great things, there must be sacrifices. That was what he’d always told her, and she believed that. It was very true. She only wished she had more to remember him by than physical possessions. The necklace, the box, and the contents inside.
The silver chain connected in separate eyelets on both the left and right sides instead of the classic placement at the top. This, combined with its weight, insured that it never flipped over to show the back, which was important, given what it held.
She turned it over in her hand to reveal a small key secured inside the hollow back, connected by a tiny hinge. She gently pulled at the bottom of the key, unclipping the end and allowing it to lift at the hinge.
Placing it in the magitech lock, she twisted it and opened the box. She reached inside, shuffling a few items around so she could pull an envelope from the bottom. All that was written on the front was a large T.
Talia remembered the day that a rather sheepish man had brought it to her. He had no confidence. She knew this from several stories her father had told her in one of his very few visits.
Still, the man had faked it—especially when he saw exactly how beautiful she was, which she found amusing in an uninterested, yet funny kind of way, though she knew her father certainly wouldn’
t have.
He would’ve been pissed.
Doyle had no idea who she was, and he was forbidden to know. She knew he was given strict instruction to take the envelope to her, tell her it was urgent, and see that she read it right then.
She knew of the threats her father faced, and he’d told her early on that if he had to risk sending word to her, she had to check that the seal had not been broken.
Doyle was smart and hadn’t broken the trust of the Chancellor. But she knew it was fear that kept him honest, not loyalty.
“I understand,” were the last words she would ever speak to her father, and they were spoken through that pathetic bootlicker’s mouth.
She opened the envelope, pulling the folded-over piece of paper from within. It had become slightly worn with as many times as she’d read it.
Whenever she felt exhausted or annoyed with her new life in the city—which had only just begun in the last few weeks—she pulled it from the box and read it. Over and over again, if necessary.
It was because of her father’s paranoia and caution that she sat where she did—in a position to see that his life had not been lost in vain. They would pay for what they did to him.
My Dearest T,
I never thought the day would come in which I would actually need to write this, but it is here. It has begun. If I should fail, you know what to do. —A
She read it five times before lowering it, looking across the room to the open window with the nauseating, red curtains.
Oh, I know exactly what to do, Father, she thought. I won’t allow anyone to forget the name Adrien.
Cathillian stood with Elysia as they looked over several warriors from their tribe. They were the strongest the druids had to offer aside from Elysia and the Chieftain. Their magic was fierce, and their bodies were long and leaned out from constant sparring matches.
Druid warriors didn't spar like other soldiers. They hit full force and used weapons, careful to avoid piercing anything vital like the chest or head. When the final blow was made, the loser would be healed by those supervising, and they would begin again.
