The Embroidered Serpent (The Crystalline Source Book 1)

by M. Woodruff

  “Is this…this tree looks…evil. Someone must have very dark thoughts indeed,” Nels said quietly as his heart stopped. Was this his tree? Infected by the darkness of the Black Mountain, it very well could be.

  “No,” Josiah said with a smile of sympathy as if he was reading Nels’ thoughts. “As dark as it is, it is actually quite beautiful. One of my favorites, really. No, darkness itself can be expressed in a truly exquisite form, I have found. In a way that complements the Light we know. True Darkness, though, it shows its true colors through rot and corruption. You’ll know the difference between the two when you see it.

  “Oh, and no, Nels, I don’t know if this tree is yours or not. I don’t even know my own. I don’t suppose it really matters, after all. A man or woman should search and know his or her own heart.”

  “Then what’s the point of all these trees?”

  “Creation creates, in manifold forms, our thoughts aren’t excluded. But, you shouldn’t need a tree to be a guidepost for your own mind—that, you must learn to do for yourself, especially as one Awakened. You’ve seen firsthand the power you possess. Could you imagine having to come here all the time to check and see if your tree was growing properly to know if you’ve made right decisions? This forest represents the collection of all our freedoms to be who we are, for right or wrong. That is what the Katak’amai is fighting for: the control of our minds. To take that choice away from us, so we will never know the Light, only the taint of destruction—the void of nothingness. The Katak’amai wishes to make us its puppets in its fight for survival. The Tiph’arah wishes to enlighten us with its own creative Gift, but only if we choose to do so. There is no fight for survival with the Tiph’arah. We rest in its confidence—creation will always win. But, we must be wary that we do allow the Darkness to enter our souls and dim our possibilities.”

  “So, what you’re saying is that this forest is basically just a nice place for me to visit?” Nels asked.

  “Pretty much,” Josiah agreed with a grin.

  “Then why all the security? Why are you here?”

  “It represents a sacred energy bond. A promise, if you will, made in a physical form to show the choice of our creative existence is always in our hands. That freedom of choice is paramount to what the Tiph’arah is and that must be protected because that is what the Katak’amai seeks to destroy. It desires to leave us with no choice, but that of our own oblivion. Even the freedom to choose wrongly is protected, as you will see.”

  They continued through the forest of colors, wire trunks gleaming as their roots sunk deep into the obsidian ground. Passing under branches of hanging gemstones and beads that tinkled quietly in the gentle breeze. Nels felt a sense of peace and tranquility even deeper than that which he had experienced in the Deadwood forest back home. The effect was similar, but here there was a new level to the contentment he experienced.

  That is until he caught faint whiff of something malodorous hanging heavy in the air—a sweet and sour, a lilacs and horse dung combination that pulled him up short. Trying to keep from retching, he asked Josiah, “What is that stench?”

  Josiah seemed unaffected as if he was somewhat used to it, even though Nels did notice a tightening of his nostrils. Josiah pointed, “Dead ahead.”

  There stood a tree unlike any of the others, though it was obvious it had begun as such. Its maroon trunk oozed a slimy substance of grayish-brown in places that Nels knew was responsible for the cloying odor. But what was even more disturbing was that in other places the tree seemed to disappear into pinpricks of black nothingness. Those little dots were such a solid black that it appeared to be tearing away the light as well as the physical. Nels wondered if he threw a rock at the tree it would push through what remained of it in the material world causing the tree and possibly even himself to be sucked into an endless void. It caused a visual effect that the brain refused to accept; his eyes felt like they were trying to focus so hard the strain of it was on the point of pulling his eyes out of their sockets. As if the blackness itself was trying to crawl in his head, grasping everything it could to feed into its vortex of nothingness.

  “I can’t look at it,” Nels said, tearing his eyes away. He felt as if his blood was welling up from his feet pounding up to his head, ready to burst free from his skin at any moment. Trying to gather himself together, Nels felt a slight trickle of fluid run from his nose to his lips. Wiping it quickly, his fingers came away bloody. His nose was actually bleeding!

  He turned to Josiah, suddenly afraid. What if his blood really was about to burst from every orifice of his body?

  “It affects everyone differently,” Josiah said, producing a cloth from the top of his boot, and handing it to Nels. “I got cold chills that lasted for a week the first time I saw one of these. Aimil couldn’t stop crying for days on end, and Mother wouldn’t eat, saying her stomach felt like a solid piece of stone. Julia said her ears hurt and she was having trouble hearing; Julilla got some kind of fungus on her hands and feet. It all cleared up, but I’m the only one that will travel this far into the forest anymore. It’s never bothered me much since.”

  Nels continued wiping the blood off his face as the trickle slowed—at least it hadn’t been a gusher. Trying to be as casual as possible, he couldn’t help but stick the cloth in his ear, just to make sure, and heaved a sigh of relief when it came away clean.

  Josiah, having the grace to pretend he hadn’t noticed Nels’ use of the cloth, continued, “There’s more out here. Too many. But, if you don’t look at one head-on it shouldn’t affect you. The smell will warn you, so at first glance avert your eyes.”

  “Is there something we should do about this?” Nels asked as they continued walking. “I mean I understand about the freedom of choice, but…could it be catching? Does it affect the surrounding trees?”

  “No, the other trees directly next to it aren’t disturbed. But, I do wonder about the people themselves. The person whose tree that is could be affecting his or her neighbors. That’s the real question—what does it mean for our worlds? Since we don’t know whose tree represents what person it’s very possible all these distorted trees are the thoughts of people who do know one another, but we have no way to connect them. Or it could just be individuals operating independently of one another. From what Grayson suspects, though, it sounds like several of them may be getting together to form the beginnings of a concerted effort against the Light.”

  “Have you ever seen one…completely disappear to that blackness?” Nels asked with a shiver.

  “No, not yet, and I hope I won’t. I don’t know what that would portend—nothing good I imagine. It would be like the Katak’amai had totally consumed a person. I don’t even know if that is possible. There is one that is further gone than the tree you saw, but I won’t show you that one,” Josiah said quickly after Nels made a hissing sound.

  They continued walking through the forest; Nels even more wary than before, hoping that the smell of blood in his nose wouldn’t impede his smelling that foul stench too late. Josiah must have felt his discomfit for they didn’t encounter anymore of the trees touched by Darkness.

  Presently they arrived at a cliff that overlooked a smaller, flatter area of blackened rock that hissed steam as the sea washed over its edges. Here, there were varying sizes of wire trees from tiny sprouts to young saplings, not full grown. All gleaming with promises of the gilded finery to come as they took on maturity. Nels still found them beautiful in their simplicity.

  “These are the Beginnings,” Josiah said, standing on the cliff edge looking down at the little trees like a protective father. “They are people who have just started utilizing the Tiph’arah’s Power. May their trees grow and prosper in the Light,” he finished with a slight bow. “Some trees grow faster than others. I think it depends on how much creative power they use. People in Silver Persia, for instance, are immersed in the Power, but other places…like from where you’re from,” Josiah said looking at Nels, “aren’t so gifted. I
t would be harder for a person to maintain creative thoughts in a dulled-down or harsh environment full of fear, and their trees reflect that.”

  Nels thought back to some of the smaller trees he had seen amongst the larger in the forest. They had been just as ornate in their uniqueness, for the most part, only somehow less-than, like a tree sheltered in amongst the shade of larger ones not able to get enough sunlight. Yes, he could see the difficulty of walking in the Gift in The Kingdom, especially in a place like Black’s Hand. He wondered, though, how even there they had managed to turn out the most sought after ironworks in the land. Maybe it was true—the Gift was in all of them, trying to come out even in the midst of despair.

  “The isle grows with the trees,” Josiah continued. “The steaming parts of the shoreline are the new growths of land.”

  “Where does the rock come from?” Nels asked, amazed at the expanse of the rocky flats before him. In some places the rock seemed alive with movement, churning with liquid fire.

  “From the sea. At night you can see the glow of fire underneath the waters, sometimes bursting forth in a show of fireworks. I love to come sit and watch, under a full moon with the stars shining overhead, is the best time. Even the trees at night provide their own ambient light. Tonight, then,” Josiah said decisively. “Tonight we’ll come back. It’s Aimil’s favorite time to visit and she hasn’t been out here in a while. It’ll be perfect since the isle is in a time of increase and the skies are cloudless.” A peace seemed to settle over Josiah as he spoke that was slightly marred as a thought flickered across his face. “I do need to show you something first. Follow me.”

  Josiah led them down the incline onto the newer parts of the isle, but ones that weren’t hissing with movement. A fresh shininess was about the rocky crust that made it look as slick as black glass. But the footing was sure as they moved steadily downward to the water’s edge.

  And there, Josiah stopped as Nels drew up short. A line of white bones reflected brightly against the isle’s smooth surface. Most of the bones were still complete skeletons of men and women sprawled in impossible positions. Stray bones were still to be seen strewn about as if some impact had blown a person apart piece by piece without shattering the bones into fragments.

  “What?” Nels managed to ask.

  “The Sacred Forest’s security. This is the best entry point onto the isle, so this is where everyone from the town would come. Men and women of all ages, at first, driven by curiosity and fed by greed. No one has ever come to the front gate to ask permission to see the forest behind the wall—I don’t know if the permission would be granted or not, but I like to think it would. Instead they would all sneak over here in the dead of night, showing what true intentions lay hidden in their hearts.”

  “But how…?”

  “The blue lightning you saw lining the wall and gate. It will spring from the trees themselves. A direct beam of light sears the very flesh off of a person instantaneously, leaving only the purified bones you see.

  “I’ve seen a few of them—there are no screams, only a slight buzzing as a sound like what fills the air right before a thunderstorm, a flash of compressed energy strikes the intruder, then bones clacking on the rocks unscathed is all there is. No blood, no entrails, no gray sticky matter—just dry bones are all that is left of what was once a human.” Josiah barked a mirthless laugh. “It is quite clean, really. If I had to choose…well—“ he trailed off with a shake of his head.

  Nels took a deep breath. “You just leave the bones?”

  “As a warning,” Josiah answered. “People won’t always believe unless they see for themselves, and even then they think it won’t happen to them. It’s helped deter some of the townsfolk I’m sure, even though it hasn’t endeared my family or me to them, even though we had nothing to do with it. Needless to say, that’s why we don’t go into Justice very often. When we do we’re safe enough from harm, even the Justicars shy away from us. It’s more a matter of the cold shoulders or fear we generate in people. It hurts to see people you’ve known all your life suddenly act as if you’re some kind of monster.”

  He stared over at the other isle with a mix of remorse and pity before continuing, “That’s one thing I’ve learned to expect, Nels, and I imagine you can too. When you walk in the Light of Tiph’arah those around you won’t understand unless they recognize the Gift, too. It separates you from people. Causes those same people you’ve been friends with to be filled with mistrust and apprehension just because you possess something they can’t understand. They can’t even see they possess the very same qualities that they spurn in you.

  “I imagine it’s not that way in Silver Persia where everyone is Awakened, but here…” He shook his head sadly. “Even when you try to tell them. You try to explain what you know about the Gift of Tiph’arah and warn them of the Darkness of Katak’amai you might as well be saying you intend to cut out their liver and eat it for dinner; it’s met with such revulsion. I don’t understand it myself—how people can’t truly recognize the spark that’s within them when you point it out, but I guess that’s the way the Tiph’arah works. You have to wake up and see with new eyes, and no one can do that for you.”

  “People live the lives they believe they should,” Nels said. “I never knew. All those years, I had been Awakened even, and I never knew. You can’t expect people to see what they don’t expect to see, as remarkable as that sounds. Once it’s in their minds what’s real and what’s not. Well, we could probably take the whole lot of them—“ Nels pointed to Justice. “—to Silver Persia and they’d cry, kicking and screaming, that they wanted to go home, not recognizing the wonders set right before their eyes. Probably saying we’re all a bunch of monsters up to no good.”

  Nels gave a wry laugh, wondering how he’d been so fortunate to immediately take to all of this. Casandra. He’d been drawn to the woman from the start. Maybe that was part of how the flow of the Light worked—gently guiding—no pushing or prodding, but expertly leading you to float along the silken current of the liquid strands of light that are embedded within the framework of all our worlds. If so, it was way bigger than him; and that meant he probably better keep his meddling mouth out of it. He wouldn’t be like Josiah trying to tell people about the Tiph’arah—they could just figure it out for themselves, or not, it made no difference to him. He’d never cared one whit whether he was liked or not, and he was going to stick with that policy. He’d go about his business ferreting out the Darkness, but extol the virtues of the Tiph’arah? No, he’d keep that to himself.

  Josiah gave a laugh back. “You’re right. I’m sure they would. I shouldn’t let it get to me, but it frustrates me thinking of how all those people are at the mercy of the Justicars, who claim to be working for the gods. Ahhh!” Josiah threw up his hands. “If I could just shake some sense into them. Knock some reason into their heads. But, I can’t. I can’t! And here they are with the Sacred Forest right in their midst and they just see it as easy plunder. Not as any kind of awakening to a new possibility. Just some kind of treasure vault they can desecrate with their filthy, grubbing hands, hoping to steal someone else’s riches, so they can secrete it away in some dirty, little hoard. They would never spend it—there’s nothing extravagant to buy in Justice—and they’d never even show it to their neighbors for fear the neighbors would steal it from them. It doesn’t make any sense, what drives these people, why settle for the measly takings of theft when all the worlds are open to them as a gift?”

  Nels watched as Josiah had worked himself up into a lather of exuberance. Nels could see quite well the lure and the reason. The tunnel vision that worked its way amongst all people who saw only narrow landscapes before them. It wasn’t surprising to him; in fact, he didn’t feel concerned about it at all. What would be, would be. If someone wanted to try to steal from the Sacred Forest, they were aware of the consequences. Nothing much to do about it.

  “You’re thinking about this too much,” Nels said. “You just stick to t
aking care of your family and the trees. Let those people worry about themselves. Besides, all it’s doing is giving you a headache for no good purpose.”

  “Hmm, maybe so.” Josiah sighed. “Well, come on. Let’s go back to the house. We’ll come back tonight.”

  They returned with Aimil that night under a full moon hanging low in the sky. The stars seemed almost dim in comparison with those wonderments showing on the land. Each bead and gemstone in every tree emitted a low pulse of diffuse light that didn’t so much as light up the night, but instead increased the darkness round about it. The aura of a strange, new mystery was hidden behind every dark shadow, but no fear was felt in what might be, only the joy of discovery in what the next step might hold.

  Nels walked silently behind Josiah and Aimil as they held hands, whispering every now and then. Niki had started out with them from the house, but departed as soon as they entered the gate to the forest; the wicked blue light seeming doubly as ominous in the dark. He could hear his boots making a muffled sound with each step he took and the ever-present sound of gentle waves stirring the water. It was a quiet night. One of those nights where the stillness seemed as an indrawn breath of awe, held in the magnificent glory of nature.

  They reached the edge of the cliff that overlooked the new land; even from this distance Nels could see the orange glow swirling about the churning waters of the dark shifting sea. He felt Aimil’s hand touch his lightly on his arm. She said quietly in an almost whisper-like voice, “We should go down closer.”

  Nels nodded his agreement and followed the pair down across the obsidian fields, lit up with the tiny trees as to appear a mirror image of the overhead night sky. As they got nearer to the infant land, Nels began to feel a heat riding upon the night breeze. It wasn’t overpowering, just delicate lashes of fire tickling his skin. He could see, not far off, the orange glow take form as it writhed up in thick bands of molten fire, topping the sea’s surface only to descend once again in liquid arches.