Mana Mutation Menace (Journey to Chaos Book 3)

by Brian Wilkerson

  After the trio crossed the Diplomatic Tree Guard, they entered a flat meadow known as the Diplomatic Defense Zone. Eric imagined that it looked pretty during the other months, but now it was snowy and barren. The village proper was a quarter of a mile away and guarded by another ring of trees. Annala and her father passed the time talking about some (and only some) of the surprises waiting for the unwary in this area if they bore hostile intent.

  “Why do you have all this? It’s overkill.”

  “We have a lot of time on our hands,” Ponix said. “We like to stay busy. Also, it’s better to have paranoid hate mongers like Meza focused on village security than working on some plan to hurt, or Lady Chaos forbid, hunt humans.”

  “Preoccupation is only thing preventing him from attacking humans at random?”

  “Meza….is a complicated case,” Ponix said. “He’s a hero of the Conversion War and many of us respect him for it, including me.”

  “I grew up on stories of The Scourge of Chaos,” Annala said. “All of them portray him as a rescuer of elves instead of a killer of humans.”

  “The problem is that he hasn’t moved on since then,” Ponix continued. “He saw the very worst of human nature and came to believe that humanity was a slave race for Order. He’s spent every day since then preparing for the next attack.”

  “Fortunately, the Supreme Council convinced him to transform his militant group into a largely harmless political one,” Annala said. “It’s called the Elven Preservation Society, but a more indicative title would be the Human Haters.”

  “Is he getting therapy for that?” Eric asked.

  Ponix sighed. “The therapist agrees with him.”

  Marking the village proper was a truly colossal tree. Eric estimated it to be in league with Roalt Royal Castle. Branches grew from its trunk and all the way up its shaft to mingle with the forest ceiling and beyond. They spread to every corner of the village; even the Embassy. Although they lacked leaves or fruit, they were adorned with snow and ice that shined in the sunlight. As majestic as it looked in winter, Eric could only imagine how beautiful it must look in spring.

  “That's the Sage Tree, Dnnac,” Annala said proudly. “The elven Sage Ledo planted it when he/she founded the village.”

  “He/she?”

  “The other thing Ledo’s known for is switching genders to prank humans. We're not sure which one she/he was born with.”

  Once he drew close enough, Eric saw elves decorating for the upcoming festival. He had to rub his eyes to make sure he wasn't seeing things. These elves were flying! Magically powered flight was impossible for most human mages—his own mentor couldn't do it—and there were so many of them! They soared through the air as if they were birds.

  Is this the difference between human and elven magic?

  The trio passed the second ring of tree guardians and the elves flew right over their heads. They carried wreaths, paidríns, images of Arin the First Elf, and ribbons of golden-brown. Annala waved to them, but they were distant in their returned greeting in Eric's opinion. He was a newcomer in a deeply paranoid village, but Annala was a native...It’s not like I was bosom buddies with everyone in my hometown...He shook his head. He was bosom buddies with no one in his hometown.

  Clustered around the grand tree were numerous smaller ones, some in the standard shape and others grown into unusual ones such as a cedar saxophone. Annala stepped over a fence of toadstools on her way to one of the latter. This one was built like a puzzle cube three stories tall with moss growing in what looked like plant-fur. It lay side by side with the snow, making Eric think of mints, and making him hungry.

  "Hey, everybody!" Annala called as she opened the door. "I'm home!"

  Immediately, an older woman wrapped her in a hug.

  "Welcome home, sweetie! It’s so good to—Dear Trickster! Is that the collar? It’s hideous!”

  "I love you too, Mom," Annala said as she embraced her.

  Annala’s mother was a slender and beautiful woman; too young for someone who could be Hasina and Nulso’s contemporary. She wore a pristine white lab coat with pockets that overflowed with mysterious and ominous things. This, Eric decided, was closer to Hasina. There were also goggles on her forehead with odd attachments. As she spun her daughter around, Eric saw pictures of tesla coils on her back.

  The woman looked over her daughter’s shoulder at Eric and her eyes sharpened into that of an eagle spotting prey. Her lips twisted eagerly. Again, Eric was reminded of Hasina and her fascination with otherworlders.

  "Who is this handsome young man?"

  Annala flushed at her mother's tone. "Mom, this is my boyfriend, Eric Watley."

  "It’s a pleasure to meet you, ma'am,” Eric said.

  He was too unsure of elven customs to do much else. In some cultures, extending one’s hand when introducing yourself was a grievous insult. He tried not to worry, because Annala told him not to, but it was hard not to fidget under that scrutinizing gaze.

  "Likewise." She gave him a gentle hug. "I'm Nunnal. Annala's told me all about you."

  "Mom..." Annala growled.

  "He's your boyfriend, right? What's there to be embarrassed about?"

  "I don't want him to know I gush about him!" She covered her mouth.

  "My daughter tells me you're smart, kind, brave, and possess, how shall we say, a great personal interest in her happiness."

  Eric blushed deeply at the praise. "Uh…ah… Y-yes Mrs. Enaz...that's true enough."

  "I've got half a mind," Nunnal mused, "to fetch Sister Sagart right now."

  "MOM!"

  "What? After that disaster with Ralm, I was afraid you'd never find a nice immortal boy to walk the earth with...Well, don't just stand there! Make yourselves at home!"

  The inside looked like a hollowed-out tree that grew into the shape of a house. There was no paint or wallpaper to hide the natural bark. Eric tried counting the rings but stopped after three hundred. How many generations lived in this thing during that time?

  With the comfy couch and big-screen CV, he assumed that he stood in the living room. There was a fireplace next to the couch, lined with the same sort of stone from the tunnels he spent ten minutes walking through. Above it and on the mantel was the head of a creature that looked like a wolverine with a fish gills and an overbite.

  The sound of a flute filled the air and a red banner dropped from above with “Welcome Home, Little Sister!” in big gold letters. While Eric's attention was focused to the front, something appeared right behind him.

  "Hello, Intruder," a smooth voice said in his ear.

  Eric grabbed whatever it was and threw it over his shoulder. The something flew across the room and crashed through the door at the other end, knocking it off its hinges and creating a great clatter.

  "Wow! Those are great reflexes! Owww..."

  Annala laughed nervously.

  "Eric, this is my son, Forge," Nunnal said. "Forge, this is Annala's boyfriend, Eric. He will be staying with us for the Festival of Arin’s Ascension.”

  An elf the same age as Annala walked through the broken door, rubbing the bump on the back of his head. He suffered no injury more serious than that from his crash landing.

  He could be Annala’s identical twin, they looked so alike. The differences were minor. His skin was a little more tanned than Annala's, and her chest was only a little more endowed. His body was slightly bulkier and her facial features were a little more delicate.

  "Pleased to meet you, Eric." Forge slipped one arm from underneath his cloak and held it out. There was a hook on the end where his hand should have been. Eric stared.

  "Oh, this?" Forge glanced at the curved spike. "I got this a few years ago when me and my little sister were out berry picking. A Lomto ambushed us on the way home and bit my hand off. Annala called for help and our parents killed it. That's the thing's head on the wall over there." He pointed to the monster plaque Eric noticed earlier.

  "Ohh...that's impo—”

 
"You get used to it,” Forge said quickly. “It was actually a good thing it bit me because I could hold its mouth shut and keep it from going after Annala." He glowered at Eric. "That's how important my little sister is to me. I'd give up my other hand before I let another kind of monster have its way with her."

  Eric slit his eyes, stared into Forge’s, and said, “What kind of monster?”

  Said little sister started laughing. She clutched her sides, it was so intense. The confusion on both her brother’s and her boyfriend’s faces made her collapse. Ponix, who was about to join Forge, lost his words. Nunnal held a hand over her mouth to hide her own amusement.

  "Forge, for the last time," she began when she regained her composure, "you and Annala are twins; neither of you is older than the other."

  Forge pointed to the girl laughing on the floor. "Which one of us is more mature?"

  "She is, because she knows better than to deceive guests. Now change back."

  Forge dropped his shoulders and groaned. The single iron hook split into five, with one rotating to the other side of the claw base. The claws extended and widened; they became fleshy and segmented. Fingernails followed and Forge flexed his reformed fingers.

  "I am only emulating the Great Hubabub by following his example," he said proudly. "I inspire laughter in others and serve a greater purpose at the same time."

  "And what greater purpose is that?" Eric asked, tired of the conversation excluding him. "Threatening Annala's boyfriend?"

  "I thought the Trickster's Choice would appreciate what I'm doing." He put an arm around Eric and whispered, "You know...he just might go away if you break up with Annala..."

  "Forge!" mother, father, and sister said.

  "But seriously…” Forge continued, “this guy's bound to have an interesting life. Are you sure you want to be involved in that?"

  Without missing a beat, Annala replied, "As the good book says, ‘A lover is one to whom you may say 'May you live in interesting times' with a sincere heart.’" She clasped her hands together and held them at her chest. "Sounds like fun."

  Forge raised an eyebrow. “Since when do you care what the 'good book' says? Before you left, you were calling it—”

  "Annala, why don't you show Eric to the guest room?” Nunnal said firmly. “Your brother will help me with dinner and I will call you when it’s ready."

  "But!"

  "Cutting onions."

  "But!!!"

  "AND cleaning fish."

  Forge moaned pitifully and dragged his feet to the kitchen.

  "And when you're done, you can fix this door."

  Annala gave her mother a hug and Nunnal ruffled her hair before following her son. Heaving her bag, Annala motioned for Eric to follow. A flight of stairs grew out of the wall across from the door and near the kitchen, and spiraled up to all the floors of the house. On the second floor, Annala stopped and pointed to the first room on the left.

  "This is my room." She pointed to the room next to it. "This is my brother's room." She pointed at the right side and said, "That's my parents' room." She pointed next to it. “That’s Kallen’s room, but she never uses it.” She walked down the hall and stopped next to Kallen’s room. "Here's the guest room."

  It was furnished with a bed, a desk, and a chest of drawers and all of them grew out of the walls. There were no gaps between the furniture and the wall; it really did grow out. The floor was carpeted with soft and smooth moss. The window above the bed appeared empty, but Eric felt a wall of solid air inside. He put his bag down and spun around slowly, taking it all in.

  "I guess you've never seen a literal tree house, huh?"

  “No, but I made one with my older brother. We stopped playing in it when he became more interested in…other things.”

  “Then it’s the same. My ‘older sister’ stopped playing here after she became interested in other things too. When she found out Mom’s research would never leave this village, she spent far less time here, and with me.”

  “She still visits, right?”

  “Sometimes.” Annala swayed back and forth. “After she got her pilot’s license, the sometimes became ‘rarely.’ After all, her real little sister needs a cure for her mutation.”

  “Yes, she talked about that at the Summit. Lunas said he was keeping her as a pet. What’s up with that?”

  “I don’t know all the details myself, but there’s a story about it in the Elven Tome, latest chapter. I can ask the Muses of Remho to set up a presentation for you later.”

  “Muses of Remho?”

  “One of the many cults around here. There’s also the Voice of Zaticana, the Glory of Belldandy and, of course, Tasio’s shrine. I’ll show you around tomorrow.”

  Before that, Annala showed him the rest of her home: basement, bathroom, balcony, etc. Other than a few doors marked “Entry forbidden under any circumstances!” it was a familiar and comfortable home. During dinner that night, he came to know the Enaz family better.

  Forge talked about his blacksmith and flute training; yes, working in a forge and playing a flute. Eric commented on the oddness and Forge replied that it showed how little he knew about elven-style materialurgy. He then went on a long and detailed explanation of the interplay between temperature, physical chemistry, and musical harmony that proved beyond a doubt that he was Annala’s twin.

  Nunnal was the director of Hariana Inquires, a company that researched everything and developed new technology from it. Because of their immortality, elves had a lot more time to tinker, ponder, and invent. They also had a religion and culture that encouraged change, innovation, and flaunting the laws of nature. As a result, she was a fixture in the community, something like a laywoman high priestess.

  Anyone who develops shields that fart in the opponent’s face is either insane or has too much free time on their hands.

  Ponix was Dnnac Ledo's ambassador to everywhere. He'd been to every city, town, and village on the continent and had a puzzle book from each to prove it. They occupied an entire wall in his study. The sign above it proclaimed, “The basis for unity between humans and elves.” He was serious.

  That was why he visited Roalt the previous spring during its opening joust. He discussed their cultures, difficulties to overcome, and future goodwill visits. He even invited his daughter so she could speak with the king's daughter. To his dismay, the topics shifted to elven technology, the trade embargos restricting it, and the possibility that his village might be on Ataidar sovereign soil, and thus subject to its laws and authority.

  "They are such controversial subjects, in fact, that they became the cover story for the Black Cloaks' attack," Ponix said between bites of mashed potatoes. "Humans want to know where we are because we know where they are. Because of this, not all humans want to depend on elven technology and not all elves want to share it; they think it'll be turned against us."

  "It’s happened before," Forge insisted. "It was the cause of the Conversion War."

  “It was one of the causes of the Conversion War,” Annala corrected. “The real situation was far more complicated than is taught at Dnnac Roots primary school. Roalt presents a much broader and balanced view of the war that incorporates their own motives and those of the elves. However, there are humans just as bigoted as Meza and so the plot succeeded.”

  “Chaos….I forgot how pedantic you are.”

  Annala stuck her tongue out and pulled her eyelid down at her brother. “The Black Cloaks were there to kidnap then-princess Kasile as part of Duke Selen Esrah's plot to usurp the throne of Ataidar. It had nothing to do with driving a wedge between Ataidar humans and elves."

  “Thanks to your sensational sister,” Ponix said, “another wedging attempt was thwarted and we may take a step forward. For the first time in eight hundred years, there might be a pan-sapient conference right here in Dnnac Ledo.”

  "Temps are coming?" Forge whined.

  “A variety of mortal races might come,” Ponix said. “Your sister will have to convince th
e Supreme Council to allow them past the Chaotic Curtain. This means convincing your Aunt Alexis, Carnegie Sallsman at the library, Tea Polug at the Trickster’s Shelter. Honey’s a good choice too; delicious chocolate for the meeting…”

  That night, Eric dreamed he was trapped in a mirror box. Everywhere he looked, the human Eric stared back at him. He was later joined by Eric in grendel form and Eric in elf form. Behind all three of them stood Grey Dengel.

  “Did you live here?” Eric asked the latter.

  “How many times do I have to tell you? I’m a figment of your imagination.”

  Chapter 11 I Want to Understand

  When Eric came down for breakfast the next morning, no one was there except Annala. He asked Grey Dengel for advice on elven morning rituals, which led to a shrug of the ghost's shoulders and Annala smacking him. He shrugged sheepishly.

  “Sorry. It’s become a habit. So where is everyone?”

  "Mom's at Hariana Inquires preparing and evaluating the Medical Mana Mutation demonstration, and ensuring that it will be useful without being too revealing for the Supreme Council's guidelines. Dad's at the Universal Embassy preparing for the arrival of the diplomats, and Forge is at the forge."

  “What about breakfast?”

  “That’s where humans and elves are more similar than they both think. You know how humans continually search for faster and more convenient early morning meals?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Elves take the next step and don’t bother at all. Once we reach maturity, daily nutrition is no longer as important as when we are still growing in our formative years and so it’s easier to recite the Chaotic Prayer for Energy than grab a granola bar.”

  “I’d prefer the granola bar.”

  He reached for the pantry’s handles, but Annala smacked his hand. He turned it into a grendel’s and reached again. Slicing the wrapper down the center with the claw on his other hand, he took a bite out of the bar. Chewing deliberately, he returned Annala’s irritation with deadpan apathy.