by Ross Turner
The fear that had engulfed her in the forest, in the dark of the night, was now gone, replaced only by the determination instilled in her by the Redwoods themselves, though she felt as if it had been growing within her for many long, lonesome years. It was those years that had made Vivian so strong willed and determined, and in a strange sort of way, she was thankful for them.
As she had done several times in the past, though each time before she had not known what to make of it, Vivian began to sense her awareness surfacing. It had never before been as strong as she felt it now. She tried to compare it to making the fire, or even to when she had separated herself from her body during the hunt, many years ago now. But such a comparison was near impossible to make.
All she knew was that it was overwhelming.
She continued advancing in on the plague, facing off against the blackness boldly and confrontationally, and it too stormed towards her, finally finding its prize within its grasp, black veins and roots stretching out like fingers and tendrils to claim the young girl’s life.
It finally reached her, and willed nothing more than to claim her and infect her. To kill her slowly and torturously was its sickening desire, just as it had killed Clover.
But Vivian too had a will of her own, and she longed not for her own survival, but for Red’s, and she had never wished for anything more, not even for death when she had thought Clover was going to kill her when she’d first fled into the Redwoods.
She only wanted to save Red, to protect him.
And so, as the black miasma of the plague touched her, revelling in its own victory, her very essence repelled it, without the need for the word of a command, and Vivian drove it back towards the shadows of the forest.
If it could have screamed it would have done, but it made no sound. Nonetheless, Vivian could feel its horror and its disgust and its fear as it suffocated at her touch, returning immediately, retreating to a safe distance, fleeing her very being.
15
Looking all around, her eyes above the dense canopy for the first time in years, Vivian gazed upon a view that took her back to her childhood. On the horizon to the northeast was Virtus, unchanged even after all this time. And then also, a little further in the distance and directly north from where she stood, was Featherstone Keep.
She had never before seen her old home from outside of its walls, and what beheld her took her breath away somewhat. It was not the magnificence or the splendour of the place that shocked Vivian, but instead it was the blackness that engulfed it. Swallowing it wholly and deeply, the plague was a part of the Keep itself, and it was clear that the old, overrun Featherstone abode, was in fact now the origin of the disease that was slowly infecting and killing the woodland world that Vivian knew and loved.
It even seemed as if the very stone that built the foundations of the many great structures, turrets and walls and towers, stretching high up to the clouded ocean above, were embedded with the plague, right through to their core. And seeping from the Keep even still, infecting the forest all around, was the terrible, hungry blackness, stretching and spreading of course all the way to the treeline poised directly before Vivian now.
The once luscious waves and breaks of swelling red treetops had now become a black, diseased sea of memories. The very sight of it tormented Vivian terribly, but it only strengthened her resolve further, hardening her against what she knew she still had left to do.
Red walked up beside his Viv, adoration and pride evident in his expression. Her hand absently ran its cool fingers through his soft, warm fur, and they both looked out for a moment, safe at least for now, though they both knew that their next intentions were far from thoughts of such benignity.
As Red’s gaze too fell upon the old, weathered remains of Featherstone Keep a low growl built in the back of his throat, deep and threatening.
“Shh…” Vivian quieted him gently, wrapping her arms around his neck and leaning her head against him, feeling his pulsating heartbeat warmth, though not once taking her eyes from the Keep.
“Must we go there?” She asked quietly then, squeezing Red as tightly as she could. He thought for a moment and there was a long, heavy silence before he replied.
“No.” He finally said. “The Redwoods have told me what the plague feels like, and you know, you’ve experienced it.”
“So…?” Vivian asked, unsure what her dear friend was trying to say.
“So it’s creator, whoever that might be, cannot still be at Featherstone Keep. His own enchantment would have overwhelmed him by now. It’s too hungry. It wouldn’t have been able to ignore him…”
“We must go to Virtus then.” Vivian concluded, catching Red’s trail of thought with obvious relief. “That’s where the Redwoods said we need to go…” Red nodded in agreement.
“That’s where the Greystones will be.” He growled, glancing in that direction, over to the northeast. “No doubt ruling the people with misery and torture and greed.” He added spitefully.
“Why are they like this?” Vivian asked suddenly, her curiosity flaring, as was always the case. Perhaps her dear friend had the answer to that question. It was one that had eluded her for some time, no matter how much she had pondered it.
“The Greystones?” Red questioned, his tone surprised, though on second thought he imagined he should have expected it.
“Yes.” Vivian replied. “Why are they so angry and greedy? Are they truly evil? Or are they just foolish? Misguided?”
Red thought for a moment, unsure at first exactly how to answer that very relevant question. For his entire life his mother, and indeed of course the Redwoods themselves, had warned him of the Greystone threat, and that only the Featherstones could be trusted, but never once had he asked why. They were all sorcerers after all, why was there such fury between them?
But then, even as he considered his response, the answer became at once all too clear, and the great red bear, so strong and powerful, but at the same time so patient and caring, sorrowed at the unequalled strength, and indeed also fault, of human emotion. Such terrible a thing, thankfully, he was not bound by. He would never have their immense strength, but neither, gladly, would he suffer their almighty weakness.
“That’s just it Viv…” Red finally replied with a heavy sigh. “They’re not evil. In fact, they probably think of your family what you think of theirs.”
“How can they think that?” Vivian asked, shocked even at the thought. Her family were not murderers.
“Your family descended from a great line of sorcerers.” Red began to explain, his voice understanding and calm as always. “As did theirs. But your line has always been the more powerful of the two, hence why your mother and father had such influence.”
“Until they were murdered.” Vivian replied coldly, and Red only nodded in sorrowful agreement.
“Yes.” He said. “The Greystones had probably been planning and gathering resources for that attack for the best part of a generation, and still they did not succeed.”
“They killed my whole family.” Vivian responded resolutely.
“No, they didn’t.” Red cut her short. “They didn’t kill you. For generations upon generations past they have wanted rid of your family. And there’s one tiny, silly little reason behind it all. The root of all evil in mankind’s nature.”
“What?” Vivian asked, leaning in even closer, pouring into her Red’s words, as if the answer to her question was so obvious, yet she could never have guessed it herself.”
“Jealousy, Viv.” Red said despondently. “Jealously and greed. Two things that we red bears have never suffered from, but sadly the two sole emotions that drive the whole of mankind, the good and the bad.”
“They were just jealous of my family?” Vivian asked, her tone disbelieving. Red nodded.
“All humans feel jealously.” Red explained. “And all humans feel greed. They can’t help it. They all desire for more. For some, these emotions guide them, and they can control them. But for others
, they cannot, and the emotions consume them, and before long they drive everything they live for.”
“That’s horrible.” She replied, and Red nodded again. “They lose themselves in their own emotion…”
“And even when they achieve what they have sought after for so long, it’s never enough…” Red concluded gloomily.
So what happens then…?” Vivian asked, looking to her dear friend, and he returned her gaze, his eyes full of pain.
“This.” He said irately, indicating expansively with his long snout the blackness of the Redwoods before him. “Others suffer so that they can pursue something they will never find.”
Vivian nodded in response, but did not speak again, for finally now she understood the Greystone’s motive, even if it was indeed an extremely misguided and sorrowful one. She vowed that such emotions would never rule her, nor, if she had anything to say about it, those that she loved either.
Though, whether she would really have much to say in the matter or not, considering the immense power human emotions have over their host, she had no idea.
They approached the treeline hesitantly at first, but as they did so, Vivian could feel the plague drawing back away from her, fearing her presence, though at the same time it still longed for her so dreadfully. It was a strange mixture of emotions.
It was only at that point she realised it wasn’t actually the blackness’s emotion she was sensing, but instead the Greystone’s. Their anger and their hatred, their jealousy and their greed, had all been poured into this enchantment. They must have been desperate, for so clear too was their fear and their anguish.
As she examined it further and further, and for longer and longer, Vivian’s perception of this strange thing only grew, and she gained an insight into her enemy in a way she would never have thought to be possible.
Bizarrely, she thought, above all else, they were terrified of her. Not simply because of her power, although it was of course still only juvenile, but because of what she represented. To the Greystone’s, Vivian was not only the last descendant of her family, but indeed she was each and every last one of her family’s descendants.
Everything they had fought against and longed for so desperately over the past millennia, was all encapsulated within this one young girl, and that made her a being so fearful that all they could think of was to be rid of her. They had to destroy her, and everything connected to her. And they had come so close now, so many times, but always, somehow, she had escaped their grasp.
Whether it was luck, or fate, they didn’t care. They had to be rid of her.
But now things were different. Her knowledge and her power were growing, and the tables were turning. No longer were they seeking her out, chasing her, pursuing her, but she was coming for them.
She had learned of them - they could sense it. She had somehow found a way to repel their enchantment, and even from such a great distance, all the way from the mountains in the southwest, they feared her evermore deeply.
With great haste, behind the towering walls of Virtus, driving their pitiful slaves of mankind before them, the Greystones gathered what wits they had left and prepared their defences. When the final, terrible Featherstone arrived, they would be ready, and they would butcher her like a lamb to the slaughter.
16
The miasma retreated all around them as Vivian and Red crept carefully through the silent forest of Redwoods. It seemed at first that the very life and even soul of the woodlands had been drained in their brief absence. There was not a sound to be heard. Not even the faintest whisper of a voice from the vast sea of colourless pines, always before so calm and sure in their endless knowledge and wisdom, now all gone.
But, as Vivian and Red made their way slowly and unsurely towards the great city of Virtus that was their destination, the young girl’s confidence grew, and with that so did her power, and indeed also its vast effect.
To begin with it was simply that where Vivian walked the miasma and the blackness of the Greystone plague retreated, shying away from her presence. However, it wasn’t long before the woodlands too were effected by her aura, and in the most magnificent of ways.
First, with every step young Vivian took, grass and flowers grew and sprouted around her feet, bursting into life where she trod, but they died again once she had passed, leaving no evidence of the direction from whence she had come.
Then her hands fell softly upon the cold, black bark of dead trees to each of her sides, and they too exploded into life and vibrant colour, a hundred glorious shades of red replacing the ominous black in eager abundance, banishing the darkness.
But those too, at first, were not to last, and they died just as the flowers and the grass had done upon Vivian’s passing. She looked behind her to survey her work, but found only disappointment, as all traces of life had once again vanished.
With grit and determination, resolutely, Vivian redoubled her efforts, now consciously learning to control that which had at first been happening naturally, merging her thoughts with her subconscious, and with that of the Redwoods. It was a strange feeling, but one that was very rewarding, for her subconscious was much deeper, wider, and infinitely more alive than her conscious thoughts, and thus her power increased tenfold.
The effect was, quite simply, marvellous.
All around her then the feeling of the blackness and the Greystone’s terrible emotion began to fade into the distance, retreating further and further. This occurred in silence, for there was still no sound, at least not until the trees and the flowers and the animals all about Vivian and Red breathed air and life once more, ignited with energy and colour like never before.
The chatter of a thousand voices bombarded Vivian’s ears, clear even to her useless human senses, and blue and green and red and gold and purple and orange shot from the blackness, as the woodlands inhaled deeply and freely for the first time in a long time, fillings its enormous lungs, the vice grip of the plague finally lifting, even if only slightly.
Red glanced all around in wonder. He knew that Vivian’s newfound senses were much more powerful than his, but still they were sharp, and he could tell easily that the forest was bursting into life for five or more leagues in every direction. The chatter of the Redwoods sang in his ears again for the first time in far too long, and he was forced to hold back a choking tear, for his Vivian was finally discovering the reason her parents had instructed her to flee into the Redwoods, all those years ago.
Her power, her rightful heirloom, was finally unlocking, and though it came at the terrible price of burden and unmatched responsibility, it was, at the same time, something most unworldly and magnificent.
“Red?” Vivian’s voice sounded amidst the great chattering all around, cutting through the noise clear as day and reaching his upright ears. “Are you ok?” Her newfound senses told her not only of the Redwoods, but of everything within and beyond them too, including her dear Red, and she could see his heart racing and his emotions flurrying.
“I am.” Was all he said at first, and Vivian’s concern grew, for her friend would not look her in the eye. She paced gently and slowly over to him, running her hand, as she always did, through his thick, soft fur as she reached him.
“Are you sure?” She asked again. She knew that he was, for her senses told her so, but she refused to look into his mind, though she knew the ability was within her, for she did not to invade his privacy so.
He looked at her then, locking his eyes, deep and black, tinted only ever so slightly with red, onto hers, glorious and dazzling, shining a brighter and more lovely blue than ever before. His eyes struggled to hold back tears, and before long, seeing Vivian now so grown and so free and so capable, Red’s thick snout was soon drenched as they flowed freely.
No further words needed to be said. Vivian hugged the great red bear closely. The closest thing she had to a brother, to any family in fact, was this beast before her, and she wouldn’t let him go for the world.
She remembered then some
thing quite strange, something she had heard many years ago. It was her father, Dorian Featherstone, who had told her the story. She recalled the tale quite clearly: it had been one of adventure and bravery and intrigue, as her hero had dared pass into the great wilderness of the Redwood Forest, and face up to the many monsters lurking within.
Vivian had revelled in such tales when she was younger, for they had allowed her imagination to wander wherever she wanted. And just as it had done at the time, all those years ago, even now the story had a very particular meaning to Vivian. Though, now as she thought on it, and as she realised how entirely different those two meanings were, she couldn’t help but wonder, where were the real monsters?
Were they those hulking beasts, barely scraping a living out in the great wildernesses of the forests and the plains and the mountains?
Or were they those civilised, sophisticated and jealousy-bound fiends of mankind, who waited so hungrily and greedily, though they had more than they could ever possibly need, for her return?
17
The further and further northeast, away from the steep, rocky mountains, that Vivian and Red ventured, the more the young girl’s power grew. Vivian found herself exploring her own subconscious, and for the best part of the following week, Red left her be. He knew she was discovering and learning with every passing minute, and he wished not to interrupt that process.
He knew it was vital to Vivian’s development as a sorcerer, or perhaps rather sorceress. Though he had never seen such a thing first hand, the Redwoods reminded him of it frequently, each and every time he worried for her in fact, for she was so silent and withdrawn that it seemed most unhealthy.
The great woodlands around him however, now that they had sprung into new life, assured Red that it was not, and of course, as he had always done, he believed them without question, and allowed Vivian her time to study and grow. She needed the time and the space to acquire the knowledge she would need for her skills and her power to mature. And the time she had was indeed very short.
