The creature was a towering collection of vines, bark and moss, with all sorts of creatures scurrying about its height. Where its head would’ve been was a bear’s skull, polished white, its lower jaw replaced with a series of bee hives. Unfortunately, Niche did not scream - he was too well trained for that, but he was clearly regretting the decision to draw his sword.

Alright, Efrain said, hoping that his Tema’tek was not too rusty, nor foreign to the vergigant before him. The magic flowing from the creature was palpable, and indicated that it was not in a pleased mood.

[Statement. We come in peace. Or I do. Calm] called Efrain.

The nice thing about Tema’tek was that it allowed the user to communicate intention and emotion through magic. It was really a no-brainer - with magical creatures of all shapes and sizes, they couldn’t really rely on human gestures, expressions, or intonations to communicate subtext.

The thing halted, several limbs extending to the ground to keep its bulk aloft. The bear skull twisted towards Efrain, which he was grateful for - spirit or not, it helped to have a focal point. The thing made a series of sounds, sounding more like creaking to an outsider, but with the aid of magic, Efrain recognized the intent.

[Query. Why have you come? Guarded,] said the vergigant.

[Reply. To walk the green path. We possess payment. Uh. Tribute. Placatory.] said Efrain, stumbling over a word the equivalent of.

The thing regarded them with silence, its attention sweeping over them like a blanket.

[Accusatory. Why does this one wave metal? Anger.]

I can’t believe I’m going to have to argue for him, thought Efrain.

[Requesting. He is a fool, afraid, and does not know the ways of wood. I will calm him. Placatory.]

[Demand. Do so quickly. Impatience.]

“Paladin Niche, put your sword away. The vergigant has given you grace, at least for now,” he called out, “it’s starting to lose its patience, however.”

To his surprise, it was Lillian who rode over and convinced the man to sheath his sword, no matter how unhappy he appeared. There seemed to be a slight settling in the creature that towered over them.

[Requesting. We wish to greet the Pourjava of these woods. Calm.] Efrain said, now that the vergigant was placated.

There was a protracted silence as the small bundles of leaves and dust swirled around it. Peuprthva, was the older technical word for them in most western annals. Most, however, called them ‘dryads’ or ‘carime’ in more common languages.

[Instruction. I will confer. Wait.] said the thing, perfectly neutral in tone.

The thing fell still as its magic dulled and flowed elsewhere.

“What are you saying?” whispered Naia.

“It’s speaking with the master of the forest. We are to wait,” he said, dismounting.

The others followed suit after a moment’s hesitation , the sounds of boots muffled by the carpert of mosses and grass.

“Keep your horses within sight,” Efrain said, “getting lost here is asking for trouble.”

Tykhon merely laid down in the grass and rolled around, kicking up the dirt and moss. When Efrain shot him a sour look, the mount merely stared at him, completely unconcerned by the prospect of any retribution.

As for Efrain, he had little to do other than watch Innie as she circled around the trees, the peuprthva, chasing her. She seemed to be enjoying it - no doubt they reminded her of the charges she’d left in the Frozen Vale. It wasn’t long before Naia sat beside him, sinking back into one of the trunks that formed the walls of the hollow.

“A creature of fire seems oddly at home in the woods,” he said, gesturing up towards the canopy.

“She’s a creature of the woods herself,” Efrain corrected, “she simply occupies a different station.”

Naia digested the information as he closed his eyes.

“How long do you think this is going to take?” he said, “It seems that the mountain passes might’ve still beat this out for time.”

“If we get passage, then believe me, it won’t.”

“And how likely is that, in your estimation?” Naia said, cracking one eye open to stare at Efrain.

“By yourselves? No. With me and her? Feasible.”

“Then I guess we have to wait,” he sighed, resigned, “and if they don’t give us passage?”

“Then you go back the way you came, and have only lost a few hours,” Efrain said, “Not much in a multi-week journey, I would think.”

“Tell that to the paladins,” he said, “it was difficult enough to convince them to not dispatch you on sight.”

“I suppose that I should be thankful for that?” Efrain said, feeling the cool air and the faint tinge of rot pass through him.

“You should. They’re both elated and frantic to get back to the capital. It’s a matter of religious significance, as well as personal honour for them. Having a mage navigate for them could be seen as a failing on their part.”

“I imagine all will be forgiven with the presentation of a new ‘Bequeathed’.”

“Hm. The triarch of faith most likely will, but their luticient is a far more demanding individual.”

Efrain was about to answer with a comment about how he was sure they were, but before he could an especially chilly wind blew through the clearing. He sat up a little straighter then, wondering if the icy mists of the creatures had returned. He was reassured when the scent of rot deepened, Naia’s nose wrinkling at the imposition of the smell.

“What is that?” he said, looking around in the clearing.

“That smells like the master of the woods has awoken. We’ll be getting our answer soon I think.”

Efrain got up, wanting to ‘stretch’ his legs before getting back up on Tyhkon.

“I’ll be going for a walk. Best not send anyone after me. Getting lost in this place rarely leads to good things.”

Naia cocked one eyebrow at the sentence, perhaps considering if Efrain meant to run off and leave them at the mercy of the trees, but ultimately nodded. Even compared to the discipline of the other men, he seemed oddly relaxed in the grove. Efrain left the group behind him as he ventured past the wizened trunks, considering his case for the pourjava. Before he could get much into the details, however, Innie drifted down, followed by trails of earth and leaves.

“Enjoying yourself?” he said to her as she flitted around, leaving eddies and swirls as she gusted the lesser spirits aside.

“Much so,” she said, “I’m glad that they are so receptive to me.”

“And here I thought they’d be as stoic as the forest itself.”

“Each pourjava has their own temperament, Efrain, much like us wisp-mothers,” she said, circling a branch.

“Well, let’s hope that this one is just as pleasant as yourself, Innie,” Efrain remarked as he gently waved away one of the peuprthva, which scattered into the mists.

“You’d better, otherwise it might not just be the soldiers who are in trouble.”

“Hm. We’ll cross that bridge when we get to it. Besides what’s the worst that it could do to me. I don’t have any flesh to putrefy.”

“Bones can rot, give enough time,” she said, “you’ve tempted fate enough already. Best not do it with something older and more powerful than the two of us combined.”

If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

Efrain took the advice in stride as he continued across the clearing.

“So, what then?” said Innie, “say that you do get the permission to cross the green road. You take them to Musphestfelm, then what? More merry adventures?”

“Maybe I will. Maybe I should go down to Nieth. Go visit the plague dunes.”

Innialysia snorted as she drifted away into the canopy, floating around a trunk.

“Oh come on,” Efrain pressed, “you’re not curious about how much the world has changed in your absence? Not even a little?”

“I was born in the northern forest with a duty. That’s always been enough for me.”

“Well, I wasn’t. I was… well, I left that behind with my flesh. All I remember is a few dodgy years in Angorrah, then the purge happened, and I left eastward. Never came back that way.”

“Until now, apparently,” she snorted, “over four centuries and an empire later.”

“Angorrah was an empire over a century before I was there, it started in…” Efrain snapped his fingers, trying to recall the specific date.

“River, 3rd stream, 625 AE,” came a voice from behind him.

Efrain turned to find one of the paladin’s charges, the boy with long red hair.

“About a century after the monarchy’s disposal,” Efrain finished hesitantly, looking around if he had any holy company, “it would be best not to wander, child. Such places aren’t always friendly to humans.”

“Really?” he said, “seems friendly enough to me.”

The peuprthva buzzed around the boy’s feet, never close enough to touch him, but still quite amicable to him.

“I always liked places like this - there’s a great wood just outside of my home,” he said, bouncing off the bark as he said it, “my mother used to take me there, and my sister too.”

“And where’s your home?” Efrain said, watching as the spirits danced around the boy, marvelling that such shy and furtive creatures would even consider being close to a human.

“Erratz,” he said, “it's a town.”

“You’re far from it,” said Efrain, looking the boy over, for any trace of something special to mark him out. There wasn’t much before Efrain’s eyes - just a youth with a tumble of thick red curls, dull green eyes, and freckled skin. He wore relatively simple robes, no doubt a product of the faith that supplicated him, trimmed with a golden hue, and layered underneath an overcoat.

“Yeah, a bit,” said the boy, striking a rather cavalier tone, “who are you supposed to be?”

“Do you mean who am I supposed to be in terms of why I’m leading the group, or why I’m dressed the way I am?”

The boy blinked.

“Both, I guess,” he said.

“I am lord Efrain,” he said, uncomfortable with the phrasing as it rolled out, “and you are not supposed to be speaking with me, if your paladin minders are to be believed.”

“Lord of what?”

“Of- didn’t you hear the last thing I said?”

“They say all sorts of things I ignore. Lord of what?”

“A lord of... “ Efrain said, realising that he never really thought about it past the actual title itself, “A lord of…”

“A lord of…?” said the boy, walking over to him.

“Death,” Efrain snapped quickly, “is that the answer you were looking for?”

Rather than looking any degree of scared, the young man seemed enthused.

“What’s that mean? I’m Frare, by the way.”

Efrain leaned against the trunk, buying him time to come up with an excuse. Necromancy had always been a fringe study of academic significance, and little else. No one would’ve wanted to become a ‘lord’ in it. That all aside, he couldn’t simply explain what was the bulk of his work to the young man, lest he tell his minders.

“I’m… it’s not easy to explain. If I had to sum it up, I suppose I...” he trailed off, thinking furiously about what kind of roles ‘death’ fit under, “I suppose I’m rather similar to your paladins, in principle.”

Frare frowned at this, looking up and down at Efrain’s robes.

“Well, you don’t look much like a paladin,” he said, crossing his arms and sending the dryads gusting away, “how’s that work?”

Dammit, Efrain thought, and trying to make the best of a bad situation, decided to completely lie his head off.

“I travel from town to town, dealing with evil… er, harmful rather, spirits,” he said, “I occasionally advise people what to do when it comes to dealing with problems of a magical nature.”

“That doesn’t sound like what the paladins do,” the boy shrugged, “I thought they just mostly stood around and occasionally jumped when someone barked an order at them.”

“I haven’t been back to Angorrah in some time,” Efrain conceded, “maybe they’ve changed.”

“Well, nice meeting you then,” said the boy, before turning around and padding away.

“That’s not the right way to camp,” Efrain said quickly, wondering if he should just let the child wander into the mists.

“How can you tell? The light’s all… sticky, here,” Frare said, waving around at the wood.

“Just… I can. Let me help you back.”

“Great. I was starting to get tired of walking,” he said, “these things keep nudging me. Don’t know where.”

“I think I do,” Efrain murmured, looking in the direction where the boy had been about to walk off, and feeling the cold power in the distance.

“Huh?”

“I said, let’s get you back to your guardians, boy. Best not to get lost out here,” Efrain said, gesturing back the way of the temporary camp.

“So, if you deal with evil spirits, I guess these aren’t evil?” Frare said, pointing out the fitting gusts. Efrain attempted to ignore the question, but instead was overtaken by Innialysia's voice.

“Evil? Hardly,” she said, descending to float above them.

“You’re the cat!” said the boy, his eyes glowing both in joviality and reflecting the flames.

“Yes… I’m the cat,” she said, her voice deadpan.

“But that’s not all you are, right? Unless there are cats that also catch on fire,” he said, thumbing at his chin, “they never taught us about any of this.”

Innie seemed quite speechless at the brevity, while Efrain had realised that silence would make no difference in the end.

“Of course they didn’t,” he said as he looked up into the eternal twilight, “why would they? Magic is something anathema to them, or at least that’s how it's stated. The useful are tolerated but scorned, and anything less is cast out or killed.”

Innie was silent, and so was Frare, even Efrain was surprised at the scorn he expressed.

“Which is why you are so curious,” he said, trying to shift away from his distaste, “you children.”

“We are?” Frare said, dancing ahead to look back up at Efrain, any disturbance vanished.

“I imagine this is contrary to everything you’ve been told,” he began, “but you are magical. Of a kind I’ve never seen, frankly.”

The boy seemed to think for a moment, then nodded.

“I thought you might’ve been more surprised,” Efrain said.

“It makes sense,” the boy said, as matter a fact as if Efrain had been teaching him from scripture.

“I just told you that a good part of what you’ve been taught your whole life is a lie… and it just ‘makes sense’?”

“Not my whole life,” he said, sticking out his tongue, “just two years. Or is it three? I need to ask my sister, she has a better memory for this kind of stuff.”

“But didn’t you just remember… never mind,” he said, “how does it ‘make sense’ to you?”

“I just feel it,” he said, raising his arm and circling to encompass the clearing.

“You feel it?” Efrain said, stopping to consider the boy, “what does it feel like?”

“A gust of wind, or like a river. You can feel every single little swirl as it runs past you. Is that why the paladins are so strong?”

Efrain considered the query, remembering the ease of Lillian welding her greatsword.

“Yes,” he said, as the pieces fell into place, “I suppose that’s why.”

So that’s what you meant by ‘what they’re doing in the Hearth’, Carnes, Efrain thought.

“Best not tell them that,” Efrain quickly continued, “they might take offence. Also better not to mention we had this conversation. That they’ll definitely take offence to.”

“Sure,” said the boy, “I think I can see the path now.”

Efrain looked around finding they were still some distance from it, the trees stretching up and around them.

“Why don’t you show me the way?” he said, “I can correct you if you misstep.”

To Efrain's surprise, he managed to navigate the mists with apparent ease, and emerged back into the camp. Several of the soldiers were arrayed near them, leaning against the trees.

“Are they asleep?” Frare said, couching near one of them and pushing back his lulling head.

“Not exactly,” Efrain said, joining the young man as he regarded the soldiers’ glassy eyes, “just fatigued. Many places of magic aren’t ideal for those unversed in its ways. They aren’t aware of, let alone know how to counter the influence of the spirits in this place.”

“Is it serious?” said Frare, poking at the man.

“In all probability, no. They’ll wake with some rousing. Still, the sooner we get out of the place, the better.”

“What about you?” he said, turning back to Efrain, “why aren’t you affected?”

“This is hardly the first hollow I’ve been too,” Efrain lied, “in short, experience and knowledge.”

The boy hmmed, and turned to walk away from Efrain, towards the greater bulk of men.

“He’s quite the carefree spirit,” noted Innie dryly, “Dryads are quite shy, and yet they seem to like him.”

“I noticed,” said Efrain, “now let’s go see if that Vergigant has an answer for us.”

The green giant stood motionless as Efrain approached, the soldiers having made a conspicuous circle around it. Most were looking exhausted- the effects of the hollow were setting in quicker than he would’ve expected. It was technically true that it wasn’t harmful, but a change in temperament from the master of the grove could shift that very quickly.

Efrain saw the shifting motes of intention as the giant began to move, retracting its limbs from the ground and pushing up. Some of the troops backed away, others looked incuriously at the rain of moss and earth.

[Statement. Of-Old-Earth will attend to you. Impassive.]

Efrain responded with a nod as the creature clambered back up the walls of the hollow, disappearing into the misty trees beyond. A handful of soldiers looked back and forth between the pair, no doubt wondering what had transpired. Efrain sighed, and looked around for Naia.

“Alright then,” he said, “now I’ve got to find Naia. Are you coming?”

“I am not remotely interested,” said Innie, “you can deal with this one on your own.”

Well that seems unfair, thought Efrain as she vanished up into the canopy. It didn’t take all that long looking before Naia emerged from behind one of the mossy trunks, seeming both alert and at-ease. Brushing off beads of moisture from his plate, he approached Efrain.

“Well?”

“I assume you want to come,” said Efrain.

“I do. Who else do we need?”

“The five dead, labelled with their names if you want a piece of them to return, and as minimal living as possible. Not the paladins.”

Naia nodded and sent his men scurrying about as he walked with Efrain to the centre of the grove.

“What should we expect?”

“An old being of the forest, if not one of the oldest. Pourjava, rot-god. They have a whole lot of names, but only a handful exist at any one time. It’s cyclical.”

Efrain gestured to above, where the dryads flitted between the twilit branches.

“Dryads feed the roots of the trees, which turn into the ents. Most fall and rot, but one eventually suffuses into a grove, and becomes a pourjava. It eventually turns to earth, and the whole thing begins again.”

“And so… we offer it food for its grove, in honour of that cycle?” said Naia.

Efrain nodded, pleased that the man had caught on so quickly.

The bodies of the men who’d fallen to the Malfeazed were lashed to horses and led to Efrain, who took one by the reins. Naia took the other two, and guided them where Efrain led. The mists only seemed to thicken as they walked deeper into the grove, until all that stood before them was a massive, dark trunk, its roots encircling a passage at its base.

“I can see why you didn’t want the paladins coming along. It would be an affront to their ecclesiastic sensibilities.”

“I guessed as much. They swing a sword around down there, none of us are leaving this grove. Best say a prayer for luck and hope that it's in a good mood.”

Efrain stepped down into the cool, dank tunnel, the scent of rotting earth filling his skull. Naia’s eyes were watering as he guided them deeper into the darkness, the horses beginning to whinny as they grew nervous. Efrain didn’t blame them - even he felt uncomfortable at the tide of death that rolled towards them.

“I see a light,” Naia said as they neared another opening.

Finally, the pair emerged into a chamber, the walls lined with thick roots from the tree above, luminous white flowers coating their surface. At the centre of the chamber, the roots descended and twisted together into a column, with the skull of a deer at its heart. Something black and foul smelling flowed from the empty eye sockets as the pourjava spoke in a grating whisper.

[Question. Why have you come to my forest? ~]

If it had intent, Efrain couldn’t discern it. Pushing his own anxieties about the situation aside, he knelt before the mass of roots.

[Explanation. We come before you to offer tribute, rot-god, and ask a favour. Placatory.]

[Allowance. Continue. ~]

[Request. We offer the bodies of our dead, to return to the earth and feed life anew. We ask that we be allowed to traverse the old green road, to a location of our choosing. Grateful.]

There was silence in the chamber as the pourjava considered the request. Efrain began furiously rerunning his statements in his mind, to ensure that there had been no miscommunication or gaffe.

[Statement. You are not of the other beside you. Its flesh is warm, and it breathes, and lives. You are of cold bone. ~]

“Are we getting anything?” asked Naia.

“Give me a minute,” said Efrain quickly.

[Response. Yes, rot god. My body is not of the living. Neutral]

[Statement. You are the one. A gift is to be conveyed. ~]

And with that, the earth itself shifted.