He grunted, pressing his hand against his eye. The branches below him creaked dangerously with his sudden motion.
The monument rose above the forest canopy with ease. It’s bone-white surface was smooth, though it didn’t reflect the sunlight at all. It reminded him of the chalk-like building blocks used in An’Larion. It was likely constructed from that same stone.
How it was constructed was a different question entirely. It was so tall that even from all the way up here, Midhir was below its highest point. There were no construction marks on it at all – no seams, no spots where a chisel may have dented the rock. It almost seemed natural.
The monument was shaped like a tree, its log made of intertwining columns, and its leafy canopy replaced with a circular shape that reminded him of an infinite vortex. The more he looked at it, the weirder and more unreal it seemed.
Lights shone on the lower part of the intertwining columns. Torchlight, he assumed, as it was a soft yellow coloured that constantly shifted in intensity. There were people there, but the forest canopy prevented him from seeing them.
After a few moments, he looked around. There were several more monuments similar to this one further away, closer to the distant mountains. To their right, there was probably a hill since the forest canopy rose. Bareon was visible behind him – it seemed farther away than he thought it should be.
He looked at the monument again. It was probably half an hour of walking away. The sun had still not fully reached its zenith – if everything went smoothly, they had enough time to save the abducted man and get out of the forest before the sun set, and darkness settled.
It was a small relief, but good enough for now.
He climbed down the branches slowly and carefully, and eventually hopped down the lowest branch, landing on the root-covered ground with a grunt.
Alistair and Captain Rianne were sitting with their backs against the tree, while two of the four soldiers who accompanied them stood guard, weapons in hand and eyes peeled.
“That way,” Midhir immediately pointed northeast. “We’ll need to walk for about half an hour, I think. It’s a huge monument, chalk-coloured. I saw torchlight, there are people there for sure.”
Alistair pursed his lips, while Captain Rianne scowled. “They’re so bold to bring flames into the forest?” she shook her head in a mix of disappointment and anger. “Despicable,” she spat.
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“Don’t expect respect from them,” Alistair sighed as he pushed himself up on his feet. “We should get going, unless you need some rest as well,” he phrased his last words like a question, and looked at Midhir with raised eyebrows.
“I can go on,” he didn’t feel tired at all, on the contrary, he felt a mix of excitement and impatience. “The more we wait, the more time they have to prepare.”
“Time isn’t a luxury we can afford,” Captain Rianne nodded as she also stood up, making a swirling motion with her hand. The accompanying soldiers rushed to them, ready to set off. “Lead the way, Lord Alistair.”
The young noble nodded, he picked his spear up from where it was leaning against the tree, and with a sigh, set off.
They heard voices before the monument entered their field of view. The Old Growth obstructed all but a few meters ahead of them, but sound carried through.
As soon as they heard it, Alistair raised his fist, and everyone froze in their tracks.
“… from ages past, we return to…” It was a woman’s voice, chanting what seemed to be an old poem. Her voice echoed in the forest, making it difficult to hear distinct words.
“Quietly,” Captain Rianne’s voice was but a whisper as she drew her blade from its scabbard, and slowly moved forward. Her steps were silent as she avoided stepping on the piles of leaves and brushing against the leafy plants growing through the gaps in the roots.
They followed her, taking shallow breaths and keeping their eyes peeled. Soon, they saw the light of torches illuminate the woods, and moments later, they arrived at the edge of the forest.
The monument Midhir had seen earlier was at the centre of a fairly large, and seemingly perfectly circular opening in the forest. The intertwining columns of the monument looked more like roots of chalk, intertwining as they climbed towards the sky, eventually forming the odd, vortex-like shape several meters above the ground.
No flowers, or leafy plants and bushes crossed the threshold between the opening and the forest, but the roots of the ancient trees didn’t seem to care – they had covered the ground of the opening nearly completely, intertwining with the monument. And the chalk stone-roots of the monument were intertwined with them, constructed in a way that made it look like the monument was spreading towards the forest.
Once again impressed by the craftmanship that must have gone into creating this monument, Midhir pressed his palm against his left eye. Doubts lingered at the back of his mind. Was this the work of an incredible craftsman, or was it something else? It seemed too natural, but as far as he knew, there was no way to grow stone as if it were a plant.
Brass braziers had been placed around the monument, in more or less equal intervals. Flames burned brightly in each of them, illuminating both the monument and the first few rows of trees in the Old Growth. Perhaps a dozen men had gathered in front of the monument, off to Midhir’s left. Their focus was a woman, wearing heavy robes and a cloak.
“Our ancestors have blessed us, we were given life for this moment alone,” charged with emotion, the woman’s voice rose. She raised her arms towards the sky, her head jolted back as she looked up. “My life, for the Old Gods!” She shouted at the top of her lungs.
“For the Old Gods!” The crowd chanted.
A shiver ran down his spine. Old, forgotten memories stirred as he tightened his jaw.
“My soul to feed you,” her voice trembled with excitement, “My blood-“
His lips moved along with hers.
“To awaken you.”