“Don’t be silly, girl,” Gad said. “Your rogue horse friend will keep us hidden from people. We could mess around. We could yell and they wouldn’t even hear us.”
Tarah froze for a moment, hearing those words come out of her papa’s mouth. It was as if a spell had been broken. She had been talking to him like he was really there. This was happening more and more often and the scariest part was that Esmine was getting better at imitating her papa and grampa. Their voices had stopped echoing inside her mind and had begun to sound as if they were standing right next to her.
Tarah frowned. “I’ve asked you before to stop that Esmine. It’s bad enough that you feel you have to wear his face when you’re talking to me. I don’t want you actually pretending to be my papa.”
“Aww! Don’t spoil the fun, Tarah!” Gad the Brawler said, sounding and acting every bit like he had in life. “Why trudge around your old memories of me, looking at them with sadness? Enjoy this time. We’re out of that stuffy palace with its empty rooms and its white walls. We’re Tarah and her papa on a new woodlands adventure!”
Come, Tarah, Esmine urged, this time using her own mental voice, something that had become more and more rare. Play with me.
“Let’s do something different then,” Tarah said, trying to be accomodating. “This game makes me uncomfortable.”
You always make demands of me. Esmine’s reply was bitter in a way that Tarah hadn’t heard from her before. Do what I want for once!
“Hey, calm down. I’m not saying I won’t play,” Tarah said. She thought she understood. Esmine was bored. “It can even be the same game. Just appear as yourself. Not my papa.”
But I don’t want to be me. I want to do this for you, Esmine insisted, completely unaware of the way she was contradicting herself. You miss your papa. This way you can spend time with him.
“Come on, Tarah. Like when you were little,” echoed her papa pleadingly.
The whole thing was a little odd. Tarah sighed. Then again, maybe it didn’t matter. This was what Esmine wanted. Why not act out her fantasy? After all, Tarah had spent years pretending her papa hadn’t died. Would it really hurt anything to do so once again?
Tarah ignored the feeling of wrongness in her gut and let a smile appear on her face. “Okay, a new adventure. But papa, where are we going?”
“Oh, baby girl we are going someplace special.” Gad came to her side and threw an arm around her shoulders. Tarah could barely feel it. Esmine still had trouble fooling the sense of touch with her illusions. But everything else was so real, from the look in his eye to the not quite pleasant smell of his morning breath that she let herself believe. “It’s a place so big, so magical, yet few ever get to see it.”
“The Jharro Grove?” she asked.
He gave her an impressed look. “You heard of it? Why I’ll be. Was it in one of your mama’s books?”
“Papa, of course I’ve heard of it. I’m here to keep that gnome from conquering it,” Tarah replied.
“I got no idea what you’re talking about, Tarah,” Gad said taking a step back from her. “But I’m gonna show it to you anyway. Wait till you see it. It’s so peaceful there.”
He started off into the trees and she followed. “What’re you saying, papa? You been there before?”
He didn’t reply to the question directly, but he glanced back over his shoulder at her, his expression excited. “The trees are huge, maybe not the tallest I’ve seen, but they are the widest. And they’re alive. Not in the way a normal tree’s alive and not alive like you or me, but more than that. They’re ancient and . . .” He stopped for a moment. “Wait, you smell that?”
Tarah paused along with him. There was something different in the air, an almost minty scent that triggered a fond memory in her mind. “Yeah, it kind of reminds me of the tea that old Ollie used to drink in his bookstore. The smell of it used to fill the place.”
“Oh, this isn’t tea, baby girl,” he said. “That’s the smell of the grove. Come on. Surely it can’t be too much farther.”
“Surely?” she said teasingly. “But, papa, I thought you knew where you were going.”
“Of course I know. It’s just been a long time. I . . .” His voice trailed off and he cleared his throat. Tarah realized that, though her papa had certainly not been here before, Esmine had. “Keep on.”
The minty smell grew stronger and Tarah began to feel light headed. Her legs began to wobble. “I feel strange.”
“It’s the magic of the grove,” Gad said. “Even though you can’t see the trees yet, the life of the place has reached this far. Look around you.”
The plants around her were lush and green without a trace of rot and the soil was thick and black. Tarah crouched down and ran her fingers through it. There was magic there. And a history. Her magic was trying to bring memories out of the soil, but couldn’t hold onto anything specific. It had to be elven homeland. Of course, that made sense. Elves tended the grove and this soil was full of their life essence. Wow, was she feeling loopy.
Tarah sat down and put her head in her hands. A giggle burst from her lips. She felt drunk. That was not a good state to be in when sneaking into one of the most heavily guarded places in the known lands.
“I don’t know that we should keep going,” she said.
“I know what you’re feeling,” Gad said, crouching next to her. “It’s just your first time here. Don’t worry. Your body will get used to it in a while.” He stood and held out his hand. “Come on. Get up.”
She reached out and he yanked his hand out of the way at the last moment, smiling. “You still falling for that one, Tarah? A girl of mine can stand on her own.”
She laughed and climbed to her feet. Gad used to do that all the time. Especially if she tripped over something. “You just did that because you know that your hand isn’t really there.”
“You use whatever excuse you want,” he replied. “Truth is, you’re just not as fast as your papa.”
He headed deeper into the forest and she followed. The ground sloped downward quite steeply in places. It seemed to Tarah as if they were walking down the sides of a huge bowl.
The minty smell only deepened as did the heady feel of magic until the air felt as thick as water. At first, she felt unsteady on her feet, but as her papa had predicted, she became used to that intense feeling of life. Then she saw her first Jharro tree. She forgot about anything else and stared in open wonder.
Her papa was right. The trees were enormous. That was the first thought that came into her mind. They were so thick! She imagined that she could put at least ten of the thickest trees she had ever seen side-by-side and still not be as wide. Their huge silvery roots covered every inch of the forest floor, intertwining with one another like a mass of still tentacles.
She looked from the roots up to the thick branches of the trees. They arced overhead, forming a nearly impenetrable canopy of waxy leaves with a light blue underbelly. The sparse rays of light that did penetrate the leaves filled the entire grove with blue and silver tinted light.
“This place is . . .” The first word that came to her head was holy but she didn’t say it. Tarah wasn’t a religious person. Superstitious at times, maybe. But as a person who had lived her life in the woods, this was the closest thing to heaven that she could imagine.
“We shouldn’t be here,” she thought, suddenly feeling guilty for her subterfuge.
“What are you talking about, Tarah?” her papa asked. He was taking in the majesty of the grove with a wide smile, his arms spread open. “Every person in the world should be in this place at least once in their lives. Can you imagine how much an experience like this would change people?”
Tarah understood what he meant. The weighty feeling of the place; the awe that would fall over anyone that stood here. Many would change their perception of nature. Some of them would never want to leave . . . Her brow knit in concern. Others would want to take some of it with them. There would even be people that would hate i
t. They would see this place of perfect grandeur and want to burn it to the ground.
“No, papa. This isn’t a place for everyone,” she said.
She saw movement among the massive roots of the trees. At first she thought that the trees were somehow moving their roots themselves, but then she saw that there were people running on top of these roots.
They were elves. But unlike the elves she knew, these were small, similar in height to dwarves, but dark-skinned and bald headed. As they ran, the roots of the grove shifted, forming pathways for them to take. Further up the trees she saw the smooth bark ripple in places as more of these elves rode knots along the surface of the trunks.
“We should go,” she said, taking a step back. “We weren’t invited.”
“Nonsense, Tarah. If anyone deserves to be in this place, it is you,” Gad said. He looked at the elves. “Don’t worry. They can’t see you. They can’t hear you. Let’s go a little deeper in.”
Tarah had her doubts about that statement. From the little she knew about the ancient elves that cared for this place, they had a history steeped in magic. Chances are they knew a thing or two about illusion. “But those roots are huge. Most of ‘em are thicker than I am tall. They might move where the elves want ‘em to, but they won’t move for me.”
He laughed. “Tarah, don’t belittle all that I taught you. You’re a woodsman. These are trees. You’ll find a way around.”
Tarah’s papa stepped out onto the gray surface of the closest Jharro root, a thick one that plunged into the ground nearby. He began walking along the top of it as it curved gently up towards the trunk of the tree. He waved at her to follow.
Tarah forced away the feeling of guilt that welled within her and followed him. The surface of the root had a slightly spongy feel and made traction easy. Her eyes wide and taking in the immensity of the place, she continued until she reached a point where the root of another tree overlapped the one she was on. It was taller than her head and the surface was so smooth that it didn’t look easy to climb.
A sharp whistle blew to her right and Tarah looked over to see her papa standing on another root not too far away. He waved her over. “Just jump. You can make it, baby girl.”
“You stopped calling me baby girl when I was ten,” Tarah reminded him.
“I know. When you kept begging me to stop,” he said. “But I’m gonna start it up again anyway because I like it. Now jump.”
Tarah narrowed her eyes at him and used the butt of her staff to help propel her to the other root. This one curved around and over the top of the root that had blocked her path. She hiked up it and when she reached its apex, she saw that the shape of the root changed. The top of it was flat and had squeezed tightly together with a series of other roots to form a pathway.
“See, Tarah? Easy,” said Gad the Brawler, smiling. He began to take a step forward, but paused and held up a finger. “Hold on a second, baby girl. Don’t move.”
Tarah stopped and two elves jumped down from a root up above, landing on the pathway right next to her. They were females and wore armor that seemed to be made of living wood that flexed and moved with their bodies. To Tarah’s relief, they didn’t give her a second glance, but made odd clicking and whistling noises to each other and kept on running.
At least she knew Esmine’s magic really did work on them. That was a bit of a relief. “What did they see?” she wondered.
“Oh as far as they were concerned, you were just another bulge in the root,” Gad said. “Let’s keep going.”
Tarah followed her papa as he jogged down the pathway formed by the roots. He talked to her excitedly, pointing out wonders. One of them was a small garden formed in the side of one of the Jharro trunks. The elves had formed the wood into terraced beds and filled them with soil. The plants inside were lush and full of fruit. She watched one elf pick a white strawberry the size of her fist.
“Oh, you need to pick you one of those,” her papa urged. “Let’s go. I see a big one.”
“No, papa,” she replied. Even if she was able to make her way there over the enormous tangle of roots to get to that garden, there was woodsman etiquette to consider. It was bad enough that she was trespassing. You don’t just eat out of someone else’s garden. “Tarah Woodblade is no thief.”
“Bah!” he said and with a series of jumps and climbs, some of them Tarah was sure were impossible for her father to truly make, Gad made his way to the elf garden. He picked one of the berries and took a bite, showing it to her as he chewed. The flesh inside was dark pink and juicy. “It’s not stealing when they have so many.”
“Now that sounds more like something Grampa Rolf would say.” She folded her arms, a frown forming on her face. Gad had been the one to teach her that taking someone else’s food was wrong. He had also told her about elves and their homeland.
Esmine should have known that. The rogue horse spent all her spare time sifting through Tarah’s memories, yet she was getting a lot of it wrong. Gad would never have entered elf land without their permission and he most certainly wouldn’t have stolen their food.
“Papa, you were the one who taught me how sensitive elves are about the things that grow in their soil. ‘If you ask, they may give some to you as a gift, but if you take it without permission, you make yourself their enemy.’ That’s what you taught me.”
“Good point,” her papa said and suddenly he disappeared, replaced by Grampa Rolf. The old man gave her an impish smile and took another bite of the oversized fruit. “This is a game with your Grampa Rolf now. Get over here and try some. Tarah Woodblade isn’t scared of a little adventure.”
Her frown deepened. That wasn’t much like Grampa Rolf either. He wasn’t the type to go out on adventures. He was a businessman. If Rolf went anywhere it was in search of money. Also, if he were to steal food it would be because he was starving. He wouldn’t do it just for the fun of it.
No, Esmine was the one who liked to sneak about. Esmine was the one that would steal food because it was a challenge. Pretending that this was a game for Tarah’s benefit was just another way for the rogue horse to relieve her boredom.
“I don’t like this game, Esmine,” Tarah said. What had she been thinking, agreeing to this in the first place? This was only going to get her and possibly her friends back in the city in a great deal of trouble. “Let’s return back to the palace before they realize I’m gone.”
“But I like this place,” Rolf said petulantly, not even trying to act like himself anymore. “I want to stay. Just a bit longer? Tarah Woodblade wouldn’t deny some fun to her best friend, would she?”
“We’re leaving,” Tarah said. She turned to leave, but one of the roots rose up in front of her, blocking her path. “Esmine. This isn’t funny.”
“Stay and play with me,” Rolf insisted.
“You’re not supposed to use your magic on me, Esmine,” Tarah said angrily.
She walked right at the root, wincing as she stepped face first into it. For a moment she felt the solid mass of it pressing against her nose and she thought she had made a mistake, but the illusion dissipated. The pathway in front of her was clear again.
Rolf appeared in front of her, barring her way. “I’m tired of being your servant. It’s time you obeyed me for a change.”
Tarah’s jaw dropped. Esmine had never acted this way before. Why now? “That isn’t how this works.”
“You owe this to me.” Rolf’s skin grew pale, his cheeks sallow and his eye sockets dark. He was aging quickly like he had in the last days before he had died. Tarah had stayed at his side, helpless to do anything. He reached one emaciated arm towards her. “I was free. For a thousand years I roamed anywhere I wanted. I did anything I wanted. Until you let me be captured.”
“No,” said Tarah, fighting the lump that rose in her throat. Why was Esmine doing this? Why was she dredging up such an awful memory?
“Your fault-.” Rolf let out a ragged gasp and stopped breathing. The Rolf that stood before her wa
s a corpse now; his eyes gray and lifeless. His skin dried out and his lips pulled back from his yellowed teeth until his face was a withered rictus of death. “You let me die. You took my freedom. You owe me.”
“Stop it!” Tarah shouted, her voice filled with pain and horror.
“I can make you stay.” The corpse lurched forward.
She raised a trembling hand and clamped it over her eyes so that she wouldn’t see that terrible illusion anymore. “Esmine . . . Why?”
“Tarah Woodblade hides now?” The voice came from next to her ear as if the person was standing right next to her. But this time it wasn’t Grampa Rolf’s voice or even her papa’s. It was the voice of the moonrat head man. She could feel his hot breath on her ear. “Yoouuu caaan’t hiiide from meee.”
Tarah swung her staff, striking something solid. She opened her eyes and saw that she had simply hit the side of a root. She spun around, looking for the next illusion, but nothing was there.
The Troll King (The Bowl of Souls Book 9) Page 19
