The boy bowed and held his hands out, beckoning Eldon. “Proceed forward,” he said.
Eldon cautiously walked toward the large tree, sidestepping around it when he neared close enough. It appeared to be fused to the floorboards, but was most likely the product of the skilled wood-working he had seen on the exterior. As he shifted past the willow trunk he noticed that two green armchairs faced the warm fire ahead. Both chairs faced away from him, and he could not tell whether or not they were occupied.
“Come, sit.” A warm voice boomed out from the seating area.
Eldon resumed his creeping gait toward the turned armchairs. Two legs, one folded, outstretched from what appeared to be the occupant of the chair to the left.
The unassuming voice bellowed again. “Please, come sit. I’ve been expecting you for quite some time.”
Eldon crossed to the right, navigating around the outer edge of his intended chair, keeping it between him and the denizen already seated. Stepping around to face the sitting individual, Eldon felt a shudder stab through his whole being.
Silver tinged grey hair hung raggedly from a defined chin, while two steely eyes stared intensely. Before Eldon sat the old man; identical to the visions from the forest. The same eerie and unsettling sensation from the woods crept over Eldon, and he felt himself overwhelmed; the need for escape. He was transfixed, unmoved; entirely unable to find the wherewithal to flee.
The old man calmly spoke again. “Please sit, my friend. It will all get easier with time.”
Shaken, Eldon weakly lowered himself into the chair. He found it hard to meet the man’s eyes. It felt as if they pierced directly through him, directly to his subconscious.
“Who are you?” Eldon demanded loudly.
The man calmly shifted in his chair. A glowing smile crawled across his wrinkled, wise face. His blue eyes averted from meeting Eldon’s, as if aware of the discomfort they were bringing.
The grey, wrinkled fellow cleared his throat and met Eldon’s question. “My name is Sillot, and your presence is most welcome. What you’re feeling is a sensation I thought I would never share in again. You see, we are one and the same; in a manner of speaking. I’ve no idea how you’ve eluded me, but we are of the same ilk; kin to the forest. I haven’t seen another person of the wood for some time. Are there more of you?”
As Eldon stared toward the ancient man, he found the flood of emotions and overwhelming thoughts subside to a manageable level. He composed himself and stammered, “I am the only one I’ve ever known of. My adoptive family told me I was traded away at a young age. Why haven’t you seen any forest folk? What happened to them?”
The old man shook his head subtly, and gazed back at Eldon.
“That’s a conversation for a different time, boy. For now, let’s get you acclimated. I’ve a spare bedroom for you to stay in. I encourage you to remain here for a duration of time, as to learn more of our people. For now, just relax, and listen.
“I know what you’re feeling must be overwhelming. You see, us forest-folk have a unique connection to nature, as well as with one another. Through the woods we can communicate, sense things; we share an almost collective consciousness with nature itself and each other. What you’re feeling right now, these disjointed thoughts and feelings, are coming from my consciousness.”
Eldon felt uneasy, unsettled, perhaps even slightly violated, but quite intrigued.
In a still warm voice Sillot continued on. “I first sensed you when last you were in the woods. You must not have ever spent an extended stay there before, because I would have long ago sensed you. I know this must all be quite a shock to you, but as it stands I intend to pass along all my wisdom regarding our ability. It is no mere coincidence that you arrived here. You were drawn here, partially by the draw of your kin, but actively by my will as well.”
Eldon’s instinctual sense would have him remain skeptical of the old man’s words, but he couldn’t deny the very direct connection he felt. There was a certain sense of wholeness within he had never experienced before. He felt a growing sense of overwhelming trust for this stranger.
“As I have grown old I have learned our abilities far exceed that of merely observing through nature. There is far more to all of it.” The old man paused for a moment and looked intently upon Eldon. “You’re tired; you should get some rest. All will be made clear in the morn.” He gestured toward the staircase behind Eldon. “All accommodations shall be met: food, ale, bathing, rest, clothing; all will be taken care of. If you require anything simply call out to Rel, he will aid you.”
“I thank you, sir. Good eve.” With that trailing sentiment, Eldon turned and began ascending the curving staircase. He felt bewildered and beleaguered, yet oddly reassured. How could all have come to pass in so short a time? What kind of a legacy did his people possess? With thoughts all swirling he crossed the threshold atop the stairs and lay to rest in the quarters provided.
His dreams that eve, while as vivid as those within the forest, possessed far more clarity and direction. He found himself not overwhelmed, but calm, collected; curious to see more of this strange shared consciousness.
Upon awaking from what proved to be one of the most restful nights he’d had, Eldon noticed his clothing had been removed from where he had lain it, and in its place lay a cleanly folded black cloak and shirt, deep forest-green pants, and some weathered brown boots. A breakfast of fruit and toast rested on a plate just beside the clothing. After eating, he lazily dressed himself and proceeded back down the picturesque curved staircase. The boy, whom he could only imagine was Rel, awaited at the bottom of the stairs.
“Good morn, sir. The master awaits in the forward wing. You may follow me.”
Following the boy, as he had before, he was led to the mansion’s front entrance. Within the dimly lit hallway, there were now several doors to either side. These seemingly new doorways appeared to be of the same exquisite carving as Eldon had seen before. It was as if the walls were now made of vertical hanging vines which stretched away from one another to create an opening. Eldon could swear that this anomaly had been quite newly formed, and could most assuredly not have been carved by hand.
Rel directed Eldon through one of the passages and within was the old man pouring over a stack of elaborately bound books on what appeared to be a wicker desk. Oversized wooden bookshelves reaching high above abutted every wall, all heavily laden with multicolored tomes of varying sizes.
“Thank you Rel, you may go,” said the old man, attention unmoved from his studies. Rel exited the room.
“Please, sit.” The old man motioned to a wooden chair beside him, attention still unbroken.
“Rel has been assisting me with tasks about the grounds for several years now. He’s a good fellow. Truth be told: our friendship isn’t nearly as formal as he’d like to think. I found him at a young age in a slavers’ encampment by the edge of the wood, and freed him. Since that day he seems to have felt obligated to repay the favor, and I subsequently have become his family and employer.” The old man chuckled for a moment and drew his eyes away from his reading, upward toward Eldon.
Eldon, feeling far more at ease this meeting, sat down in the wooden chair and prepared to listen intently to the old man’s words.
“Like I said, my name is Sillot, and I’ve beckoned you here for a very specific reason. I can sense your distrust, and skepticism, but I assure you I’ve no ill intentions. Merely probe my thoughts, and you will see the truth.” Sillot grinned wide.
Strangely Eldon somehow knew, with absolute certainty, that the old man was uttering the truth.
“You see,” the old man began talking again, “it’s abilities like that which are inherently present within our people. The forest-folk possess many almost supernatural abilities. It is these that I wish to share, to teach you. I want to answer any mysteries of your past, to inform you of all the qualities of your birthright, your legacy.”
The aged man adjusted rusted spectacles on the bridge of hi
s nose and continued.
“I have grown quite old, and fear that knowledge of the wood-folk will die with me. Though I fancy myself living until the end of time, we both know that mortality is ever-present, and whether it’s my silver hair, wrinkles, or failing eyesight, I think it’s pretty apparent that my youthful years are behind me.” He smiled humbly. “I intended to at least pass the memory of our people to Rel; so at least someone would know of the wood-folk, but to have by happenstance found you, I think it far more fitting to share our legacy with kin.”
Eldon wanted to let loose a barrage of inquiries, but somehow knew all would be answered by the wise old man before him: all in due time.
The old man continued. “I can’t tell you how much it warms my heart to see one of your age clothed in the garb of our people. It has been so long. Now come. We’ve many questions to be answered and much training to complete. You know in your heart that no question will be left unanswered.”
Sillot winced as he pulled himself upright from the chair, and began shambling toward the doorway. Eldon, still quite intrigued by the flood of knowledge and emotion, stood, and patiently followed Sillot’s crawling pace.
Over several months Eldon and Sillot became quite close. Day by day Sillot would reveal, almost unrelentingly, knowledge about the past of their people. He would regularly meditate with Eldon, teach him how to control his mental focus; show him how to share the consciousness of anything from a single blade of grass, to a whole grove of trees. They would regularly take trips to the edge of the woods, where more training and honing of skills would take place with rapid progress. As time passed and Eldon’s mental connections to his natural surroundings increased, they began to work on his ability to alter nature as well.
Eldon was astounded to learn that not only could his kind commune with nature, they could control it: will it to grow in a specific fashion, to move, to die, to reproduce.
All the while teaching Eldon of his new abilities, Sillot continued to educate Eldon of their people: the fact that they couldn’t adapt to the growing technological advancements, their persecution, their beautiful culture and love for the earth, and their eventual demise at the hands of religious zealots and growing encroachment of cities and technology.
It was now known to Eldon, the grim reality that he would never know the joy of meeting other wood-kin. Sillot would be his only window to this lost world, and Sillot was quickly slowing from age. The time spent communing with the woods and one another, and the training sessions spent willing plants to bend and change, quickly became some of the fondest memories Eldon would ever have. He had grown skilled, proficient, aware, whole. Though he still hadn’t found his direct purpose, he was content and longed only to hone his abilities to absolute mastery.
Forced to practice in the woods as to avoid unwanted public suspicion, Eldon was already willing ivy to quickly envelop and constrict surfaces, to raise a full meadow of grass to head-height in mere seconds, to make trees sway and bend with the same speed and precision as his hand. He now felt powerful, and invincible. Even the mystery of the mansion had been solved to him: it was growing, constantly changing, being altered to fit Sillot’s needs, and expertly so.
Much time had passed, and Eldon sensed Sillot’s passing was near. Bade by their connection, Eldon met Sillot in the large room with the hearth and willow tree.
Sillot sat at the base of the ancient willow with a hand resting on its exposed roots.
“Come sit beside me, Eldon.” He gestured toward the tree.
“You have already sensed I am soon dead. To return to the nature I so powerfully loved. I have taught you all I can, save one memory. Place your hand upon this tree with me.”
Eldon slowly lowered himself to the base of the giant tree, and outstretched a hand to it. Both men closed their eyes, and a flood of visions filled Eldon’s consciousness.
A village of the forest-folk, completely crafted from living matter, peacefully rested in a small clearing within the woods. Eldon quickly realized he was viewing this sight from Sillot’s perspective.
Carefree people, all laughing, smiling and talking, milled about the landscape: foraging, hunting, crafting from nature. All wore the black and green garb of which Eldon had grown quite fond. None appeared angry, none sad. All appeared gentle, beautiful. Eldon was filled with wonder, comfort, and a certain familiarity with the scene. It was beautiful: the very essence of his people’s way of life; the way he himself wished to live.
Screams. Screams of pain and suffering Eldon could scarcely believe rang out. Wild, soulless people flung themselves heedlessly upon the unsuspecting forest-folk, savagely cleaving limb from body, head from shoulder. Deep crimson blanketed the moss-covered earth, and stained all that had been vibrant green before. The clothing was unmistakably that of the plains-folk, and they fought with an inhuman vigor and bloodlust Eldon could barely comprehend. Terror continued to ensue as those not yet under attack attempted to bend the will of nature to their defense. Outnumbered as they were, most of the forest-dwellers were cut down before they could mount any kind of defensive blow.
Amidst the fray several recognizable faces pierced through Eldon’s heart. He saw his adoptive mother violently dragging a screaming child from one of the shelters. His adoptive father wailed with near-delight as he mercilessly bit his blade into a would-be defender and proceeded to throw a torch upon a shelter. Several other members of Eldon’s plains-community could be seen burning, raiding, and killing the peaceful folk who moments ago lay blissful.
In the end pure numbers surrounding the small village put a quick end to all who resisted or submitted. None were left alive save the screaming child dragged brutally from his home. This Eldon recognized to be himself.
The vision abruptly ended and upon gazing down to Sillot he realized tears were covering both of their faces.
Staring coldly downward Sillot coughed, and whispered, “I fled, I was scared. I found the road and a man saw my terror. He took me back to his house. The house we currently sit within. I assisted him here for years until he passed and I inherited this estate.”
Sillot laboriously craned his head upward, looked Eldon in the eyes, and spoke his last words. “That is our people’s fate... The skills I have shown you far exceed those of our forbearers... I will die with my own kind, of my own age: in peace... Always remember…”
Sillot’s body went limp and slumped forward, sliding down the trunk of the willow until lying on the floor. Eldon stared into the foggy lifeless eyes of his mentor and only kin, tears filling his own.
Several roots of varying sizes arose from the base of the tree and began enveloping Sillot. They twisted and wrapped him, covering all but his head. They pulled him earthward gently, unhurriedly; until his form lay no longer visible, and the floor lay as it did before.
Eldon leaned against the willow staring blankly toward the entrance that brought him to this crossroad. He loudly called for Rel, but there was no answer. Eldon would miss the wise old man...
It was then that Eldon had found his purpose, the reason for which to train, to learn, to love, to hate: revenge. He had always known he was destined for something more, and now the scope of that was fully realized.
Eldon hastily wandered through Shoryal, down the cobbled streets amidst barking vendors and beggars, through the chaos, the sickening, the depraved. He reached the gates of that cursed testament to triumph over nature, and proceeded toward the forest.
The journey was long, but passed quite hastily in the fog of rage.
The woods brought no comfort, no respite from pain, just power. Sensing the consciousness of the forest he learned of where his coastal village lay. The place he once called home, the place he loved with the people he loved.
Eldon stood calmly on the edge of the wood. Gazing into the once quaint village ahead, Eldon noticed how much it had grown since he had left, how bustling and successful it had become.
With two hands raised skyward Eldon experienced his legacy. He
would cast away his pain; he would avenge his people. He knew now what Sillot had trained him for. The purpose of his newfound knowledge.
Vines, lightning fast, stretched out into the village. Shrubs and grasses violently protruded from beneath the earth’s surface. All the ground was boiling and crumbling, as villagers in fear fled their homes. Ivy lashed out at hysterical, running villagers, dismembering some, crushing others. Trees arose from the earth, crumbling foundations, destroying homes and fences; all structures torn and bent as if delicate in nature. Screams rang out deafeningly; screams ten-fold that of the forest village. Terror was cast upon all faces. Those who fled were cast to the earth violently where they were then enveloped by vines and undergrowth. Blood splattered all the vegetation, slaking the thirst of the earth; all was red, deep red. Buildings toppled, and structures splintered as all manner of vegetation seemed to penetrate the heart of the village. The piercing screams seemed unending, but were becoming fewer and fewer in number.
Eldon gazed to the building that was once his home. It lay untouched by the chaotic natural environment wreaking havoc upon the rest of the village. The last memories he would possess of that home were the familiar voices of his adoptive family; their screams and cries as he lay waste everything before him...
Where the village once stood, now only nature and crumbling structures could be seen. The forest had expanded to cover what was once a place of development, growth, and a way of life. Eldon turned to the woods that lay behind and as he first stepped into them, he would do so again: alone…
Beyond the Mirrors of Faellnoch
Swords of Steel Omnibus Page 17
