His roots went very deep.
Sihron’del had spent most of everyday for the past month sitting by the giant tree, waiting. Ch’ron could not tell her how long the repairs to Arwhon would take. Sometimes it seemed as if Ch’ron was not even there at all but he was, concentrating his magic and prodigious abilities on the task which was almost totally absorbing him. Ch’ron had a problem. He knew how every living thing was put together because anything dead was given back to the forest and he took it apart slowly, aiding with the decomposition and cycling of nutrients. All the insects, amphibians, reptiles, animals and birds populating his forest as well as the M’Herindar themselves, were known to him intimately, in every last cellular detail.
However, he had only taken apart dead things and life was different. Ch’ron could not work out what life itself was nor could he animate a dead body but he knew how to keep things alive.
The problem taking up so much of his capacity now was within him. Literally. The closest any living being had ever come to his heart.
In the centre of the biggest Tree.
It was alive and a Man; something he had no pattern for.
That Man lay cradled in total darkness, cosseted by a gentle soundless voice, backed by the music of wind in leaves, reminiscent of the softest of summer seas he had grown up beside. Restful, placid and eternal. No fear, only a slowly growing sense of self as each memory was linked and gradually returned, one after another.
Ch’ron had never worked with the form of Man, so exquisitely fine tendrils were inserted everywhere within the unresisting body at his core, probing many of the unfamiliar structures which he set about changing, subtly altering them into the anatomical configurations he did know.
This Man was the tiniest part M’Herindar, his heritage very diluted, so Ch’ron’s work was not totally impossible, just time consuming. Withered neurones were explored to map their old connections for replacement with tissue provided by Ch’ron, virtually identical to M’Herindar tissue in every respect. Arwhon was gradually rebuilt, stronger and leaner, looking very much like a M’Herindar but the strange core of magic inside him was left untouched by the Tree.
Ch’ron was unfamiliar with the nature of the magic surrounding Arwhon’s core but there was something repellent to it and the Tree thought of Firemagic each time his senses wandered near it. He felt the Power of the core very strongly but sensed no evil there. He resolved to only tinker around the edges, adding a thin construct of Earthmagic to try and hold the Firemagic somewhat contained while he finished his work on Arwhon. He would remove the Earthmagic shield before Arwhon went back into the world.
As Ch’ron worked he considered the importance of this one individual in the scheme of things. There was a whisper of deeds to come gently coursing through the magic deep beneath him where his roots tapped into the faint ebb and flow of Fate and Destiny within the world. Ch’ron felt it would be beneficial to all if this Man could easily draw the Power he would inevitably need from its source deep inside the earth, rather than depend on the trickle he received at the moment through the Dwarven hauberk. An ancient memory tugged at Ch’ron and remembering, he sent his consciousness down through the Earthmagic.
There it was!
Fine red tendrils of Firemagic lazily writhed off the Power in the depths beneath, far below the Earthmagic which lay nearer to the surface and suffused all above it, including the rich and fertile soil of the Darkwood.
As Arwhon’s repairs continued apace, Ch’ron pondered deeply upon the problem of this Man’s inability to draw more than a little Power directly from the rocks far below. Arwhon was the only being Ch’ron had ever met who could store raw Power. All other magic wielders had to use the elemental magic which originally came from Power but was much diluted. All Ch’ron could think of was somehow trying to make a union between Arwhon’s core and the wild Power.
Eventually realisation dawned in Ch’ron.
It was up to the Ring to make the union. Not him.
Nearly finished with Arwhon now, Ch’ron felt delicate fingers of Other reaching out to him. It was the Ring, somehow attempting to join consciousness with him. Ch’ron couldn’t or wouldn’t allow it but a bright intelligence still hovered in his awareness and the Ring on Arwhon’s finger started to glow a deep red but with no heat. Ch’ron worried the Firemagic would burn uncontrolled in the Man’s body and damage his critical repairs so he readied himself to blanket Arwhon with cooling Earthmagic if the need should arise. Ch’ron needn’t have worried, a bond was formed somehow between Arwhon’s Firemagic and the source of Power far beneath and from that moment on, once Arwhon learnt how, he would be able to use the Firemagic to take the Power he needed directly from its source way below.
After making the link, the Other vanished.
There was something about the Ring of Truth on Arwhon’s finger which perturbed Ch’ron, linked as it was to Arwhon’s nervous system. It nagged like a memory half forgotten, or half recalled. There was something very important about that Ring but to Ch’ron, the memory seemed shielded or blurred in the depths of times long, long ago when he was still too young to appreciate such things. Still, there was not one scrap of evil in this Man and the Wise Ones considered him of extreme importance.
The work must continue until finished.
At last Ch’ron’s task was drawing to a close. He had but a few of the most recent memories to repair and as he did, the body contained within his trunk tried to move. Sedation was withdrawn gradually and Arwhon slowly regained consciousness to find himself in conversation with Ch’ron. Arwhon wasn’t able to move, or see and realized he wasn’t breathing. He assumed he was in a dream.
“You are healed and changed. I could not work efficiently with the body you arrived in so it has been slightly modified. Because you are so important to the Wise Ones, and for reasons of its own your Ring has acted. By a means unknown to me, the Ring has given you access through Firemagic to Power from deep within the earth. The Power you store will give you strength in times of need and assist you when you eventually learn to unlock the magic inside of you. Power is very dangerous. Being drained of it is as fatal as drawing too much, which will blow you apart. Spectacularly.”
Ch’ron’s warning was accompanied by a mental picture of the consequences of drawing too much Power. It had the desired effect on Arwhon. Ch’ron continued.
“I have also incorporated lignin producing cells deep within your skin which will make it harder and more difficult to penetrate. It will still feel soft on the surface though. As you can sense, your memories have been restored and while you have been in here I have been stimulating your muscles to keep their tone.”
“Puppet! I remember. Empress Martine is being controlled by some dark force.”
Ch’ron accessed Arwhon’s memory and felt the Ring reinforce the Truth of what this unusual Man had heard in the caverns below Gildon’s Keep. Ch’ron related his own impressions of the event.
“Indeed, Martine is under the control of some dark force but I recognise it for what it is. Q’Herindam magic, dark and tainted with the evil they have become. Their goal is to remove Man from this land and possibly the M’Herindar also. The balance holding them in check is being circumvented by their manipulation of Man’s affairs. Martine will do half of their evil work for them if she starts another war. They all must be stopped somehow but none can set foot in the Forbidden Lands without the Q’Herindam finding out and they possess powerful magics.”
Arwhon digested this information. So, the Dark Mage was Q’Herindam.
“I don’t mean to be ungrateful but if you are finished, can I go?” Arwhon thought at Ch’ron.
“Soon. It is night at the moment and we need daylight for you to exit. Sihron’del comes every day to sit and keep vigil. She has done so for one complete cycle of the moon. Your body is clothed in a tunic I made for you but your lungs have not been working for over a month of your time. I have been providing oxygen directly into your veins. You will need to reme
mber to breathe once you are outside of me and it might be uncomfortable for a while. It would be helpful to have assistance when you exit. I have finished my work with you, so relax and I will tell you of the M’Herindar. I sense you will need the knowledge of them in the future.”
Arwhon mentally relaxed, he was indeed curious about the M’Herindar. Ch’ron began.
“I cannot remember when I first became aware of the life around me. At first it was the tickle of squirrel’s feet on bark and the sense of movement as wind soughed through my branches. Then it was cold in winter with sap travelling down to my roots and warmth in the ground then the feeling of the sun of summer on my leaves. Back then I was about half as large in area as I am now, with roots still spreading on my periphery to raise yet more trees. Other trees were amongst me but not part of me. Gradually they disappeared. I learned to change my form to match their makeup as those trees decayed into the humus making up the forest floor and I copied them where they fell to give variety for the creatures living among me. I was alone yet not lonely, part of the whole which is life. There were no M’Herindar, only animals and birds and all the little living things making up a forest and I lived in peace for many thousands of your Man years until one particular day when strange sounds reached me.
Speech, a jumble of noise repeating certain sounds over and over. It had cadence and differed from the calls and cries of animals. I listened as these noises spread slowly throughout me over time. I did not have the self awareness to know Earthmagic was in me but I felt a resonance with these sounds.
At times there was a tingling in my trunks which I recognised as similar to the tingling of healing when I mended a broken leg or cured a sickness in the animals which ran among me. Eventually, I suppose it was inevitable, the Hirondae living within my shadow made contact with me. It started with ceremonies, dedicated to appeasement. An apology for cutting the wood they needed for their dwellings, although they used mostly deadfalls. Ceremonies of thanks for the deer they sparingly killed for food. I was initially angered at the thought of being used against my will and I think it was the burning anger which finally cemented the bridge to Earthmagic. I guess I used it to retaliate for being wounded. Something I am ashamed of but the Hirondae forgave me.”
Arwhon was puzzled. He did not understand who Ch’ron was talking about.
“What are the Hirondae, Ch’ron?”
The Tree paused for a moment, considering its response.
“The Hirondae were the people which split into the M’Herindar and Q’Herindam. The old dichotomy of Good and Evil, Light and Dark. The magic of the Q’Herindam reflects that. May I continue now?”
Arwhon, totally immobile, mentally nodded.
“Now where was I? Oh yes. One day, an old Hirondae woman placed her hands on the trunk of the biggest tree she could find and ‘summoned’ with a spell using Earthmagic. I was forced to respond and found myself in communication with a strange being who I now know was a Wise One of the Hirondae. The communication was not speech. That I only learned later. It was more in pictures and feelings and intermingled throughout with soft Earthmagic.
I was so slow then, as time is not important when one is virtually immortal. Over many years we developed an understanding and soon I was able to communicate with all of the Hirondae. Now I was not alone and together we developed a system whereby I grew what shelter and food they needed, so they didn’t have to harm me or any of the animals within me. They were the ancestors of the M’Herindar.
According to the Elders, they had no Queen at that time; the Hirondae had come from the east, leaving those lands long ago in search of a home where they could be at peace, away from Man. They had been nomadic for hundreds of years before they came across my forest and upon entering it they had felt fulfilled. Earthmagic was a natural part of them and they once had spells which allowed a huge concentration of the Earthmagic to be bent to a purpose. Beneath my branches the Hirondae felt its resonance. I showed them how to draw Earthmagic through me to strengthen their own. They could only draw it effectively in that manner while among my trunks. Anywhere else, they had to recharge more slowly from the earth itself.
The Hirondae lived in peace until Man, following them long after, came to these lands, spreading from the east, hunting, killing, digging and burning. Man changed the land into something other than what it once was. At first the Hirondae went among them using their magical healing to aid, asking little in return. It took effort, as once their energy was depleted, it took days to replenish when they were away from me.
Man was suspicious of the Hirondae because they looked different and some Men became greedy, wanting to know the secrets of the magic. Generally Man has little magic, apart from a few like you, descended from the M’Herindar. So Man did what he always did when he couldn’t understand.
He killed.
The Hirondae withdrew into the safety of my shade and named me Holmwood and Man was banned from me. The Rangers came to be and patrolled my periphery, keeping Man out and so Man named me Darkwood.
Some among the Hirondae resented Man and sent out parties to exterminate them from the surrounding lands but Man is quick and breeds a lot faster than the Hirondae. The lands out there filled slowly. There were many among the Hirondae who hated killing and eventually two factions arose. Those in favour of wiping man out and those opposed. They could not agree and Hirondae fought Hirondae using weapons and Earthmagic.
I helped those opposed to killing, for although I do not like what Man does, I still find killing to be reprehensible. I helped drive those Hirondae in favour of killing far to the west through my trunks. They went willingly, to be further away from Man and retreated almost to the mountains in the west, still fighting with the M’Herindar living among me here.
They named themselves Q’Herindam, ‘Bane of Man’.
The hostility continued until both sides eventually used so much Earthmagic in one encounter the earth itself was ripped asunder and the Rift was cataclysmically created. A part of me still remains on the other side of the Rift but it was small and damaged at the time. I believe the Q’Herindam threatened it with fire unless it kept channelling Earthmagic for them and it has eventually grown to become like them, my twisted and evil counterpart. It is no longer Ch’ron and I cannot contact it.
There is a Rift between us.
Since those times there has been an unsteady truce, a balance of Power and an agreement not to use Earthmagic to such an extent again nor to teach magic to Man or use it directly against him.
At the time of the division of the Hirondae the M’Herindar decided a Council would not work and have since honoured an unbroken line of Queens for thousands of your years. Man spread over the lands and the various races have lived in an uneasy truce since that time.
Until the Empress Martine came along.”
Arwhon was amazed by Ch’ron’s knowledge of life outside the Darkwood.
“How do you know so much about the world, Ch’ron?”
“The M’Herindar keep me informed and I listen to the story of the Earth. Ah! The sun is shining now and Sihron’del is approaching. The Ring seems to have given you the ability to link Firemagic with the Power of the world far below and draw on it. Use any magic wisely and ask the M’Herindar to show you how to make and use spells. That way you can control what you do with the Firemagic. The Ring will help. It is an enigma to me but I know it will. It is True, like you. If you wish to talk with me, just touch any tree in the Darkwood. One last thing, the task the Fates require from you along with a warning. The Q’Herindam must be contained or Man will be wiped from this land and, although you are aided in this undertaking and have a core of Power, it is still possible for you to die. Now get ready.”
Arwhon felt the small tubules withdrawing from his arms and legs. The filaments long grown into his head had been withdrawn during Ch’ron’s discourse and he had not felt their going but the tubules in his arms and legs were larger. There was groaning as the Tree altered its shape whil
e still maintaining the strength to carry its tall majesty and a crack appeared in front of Arwhon, letting in a flood of light so bright he reflexively closed his eyes to its intensity. He heard a cry of surprise from outside the tree. Then the crack widened and he was gently pushed from behind, to sprawl at the foot of the mighty trunk, his eyes tightly shut against the brilliance of the light.
Soft hands touched his slimy skin and he felt a pain in his chest. What had Ch’ron said? He opened his mouth and forcefully strained to draw in a ragged breath, his lungs expanding slowly with the effort as the surfactant in the alveoli allowed for their first expansion in nearly a month. Just as in a baby newly born he took his first breath. It took great effort for those first few gasps and much coughing to clear the excess fluid. As he lay there, drying in the balmy air, he gradually became aware of a voice laden with concern and worry, insistently calling his name.
“Arwhon, Arwhon. Are you all right? Speak to me please Arwhon.”
Eyes still shut tight, he sat up and moved his hand to feel the person beside him and gave the arm he encountered a reassuring squeeze. He felt himself being wiped with a soft cloth, only later realising it had been the sleeve of Sihron’del’s dress. His coughing diminished and he breathed more easily after a while.
“I’m fine Shiri, just give me a moment or two to get my breath.”
He felt warm drops on his arm and his questing hand found a face, with wet tracks running down both cheeks.
“No need for tears Shiri. Really, I’m fine. Better than I’ve ever been before and I remember everything. I owe you my life.”
He squinted through partially open eyes as Sihron’del hugged him to her, the light seemed bright and shining, although his mind told him it was really quite dim under the foliage of the Darkwood. Gradually, while he was gently rocking in Sihron’del’s tender embrace, his eyes adjusted, tearing all the while, until he could see.
The Ring Of Truth Page 41
