The sun hung low in the sky. Tall trees dripped dappled light onto the cobblestone road that led to the docks of Whitespire. The putrid stench of the sea stung the nose as Charlie, Nate, Sam, and Doctor Professor walked past fish mongers who stood in front of sticky tables, covered with sea creatures curious and alien.
Clouds of flies hovered in the air and assaulted their faces, attracted to the rapidly rotting meat of the unsold goods. Charlie held his sleeve over his nose to stop himself from dry heaving, his eyes watered from the effort.
They passed through the city’s colossal, stone, outer wall through a set of heavy black iron gates that were tinged with rust. Here, the endless ocean with its unmeasured horizon met the crack toothed terrain of the land.
The road continued along the edge of the city wall. Every one hundred paces or so, a perpendicular section of stone road would jut off into the ocean, supported by broad arches that disappeared into the angry gray water.
From these stone sections, several wooden platforms extended seemingly at random into the unwelcoming sea. Sailing vessels of all sizes and descriptions were moored here, from boats that resembled Viking long-ships and painted garish colors, to massive four-storied carracks, their mammoth sails tied carefully to the worn posts as men unloaded exotic looking goods from faraway lands.
The bustle of the docks was pure chaos to Nate, overwhelming his senses. His head spun as he was shoved and jostled by people of all shapes and degrees of cleanliness. He felt a wet slap on the back of his right shoulder. Sam and Charlie began to laugh.
“What?” Nate said, as he reached his hand to see what had hit him. He touched something wet and sticky. And warm. Examining his fingers, they were covered in white bird poop.
“Awesome…” he grumbled as Sam and Charlie tried to control their giggles.
Doctor Professor led the way through the tumult down one of the narrow docks. The wood planks bent uncomfortably under their weight, softened by the constant wetness. They came to a bulky caravel, its triangular lateen sails a brilliant crimson, the only decoration a yellow circle with an X through it.
An old elf, who somehow appeared to be simultaneously homeless and wealthy, stood near a wooden plank that led from the dock to the boat. His hair was unnaturally black, as though he had colored his white hair with a permanent marker.
His leathered skin was covered with tattoos that had probably seemed like a good idea at the time, but were now warped and distended with age. His pointed ears sagged under the weight of the innumerable golden hoops and jeweled piercings.
Sam recoiled involuntarily as he turned and flashed a smile at Doctor Professor, revealing his deformed wooden dentures, filled with rows of what might have been dog’s teeth.
“I was beginning to wonder if you were going to show up,” the elf said, his voice rough and ragged from years of heavy drinking.
Doctor Professor grasped the repulsive man’s arm. “Allow me to introduce my good friend, Captain Garrock Grunties.”
“Did you just say Grunties?” Sam asked, unsuccessfully attempting to suppress a smile.
“Aye,” Captain Grunties answered. “Is that a problem?”
“Absolutely not. Great name.”
“Garrock and I go way back. We fought together during the Fall of Yith-Urath and the Siege of Elgenon during the War of the Five Saints.”
“If I remember correctly,” Captain Grunties grinned, “’Twas I who did most of the fighting, while you hid with the women and children and tended to the sick.”
“How would you know where I was, what with hiding at the back of the army and pretending to be dead for half the battle?”
Captain Grunties swung his fist wildly at Doctor Professor, connecting with his lower jaw. Sam gasped at the loud snapping sound it made as Doctor Professor’s teeth clapped together.
They expected him to be furious, but instead he grinned and spat a thick glob of blood to the ground. “That the best yeh can do? Yer getting soft on me, Garrick. I’m surprised the harbor reapers haven’t taken ye.”
The captain’s grin disappeared as Doctor Professor smashed his forehead into the captain’s nose, splattering it across his face with a sodden thud. Captain Grunties stumbled back, holding his face as blood poured down his chin. He slipped, and fell backwards into the sea, spraying them with briny water.
Doctor Professor laughed loudly as Captain Grunties surfaced, a grin on his face despite the chunk of cartilage that poked out of the gash on the bridge of his nose.
“Come on,” Doctor Professor said, as he climbed up the wobbly plank and boarded the ship. “I’ll show you your lodgings.”
Sam and Nate exchanged a look of terror as they followed him onto the boat. Charlie grinned wildly as the captain floated on his back, and began humming a sea shanty.
“Captain Grunties is a good man, but a touch unhinged,” Doctor Professor explained as they made their way across the main deck to a small set of stairs that led deeper into the belly of the ship. “Doesn’t hurt to remind him to keep in line once in awhile.”
The rank odor of too many men who had bathed too little thickened, like they were entering a mouth filled with canker sores and halitosis; warm, humid, and noxious.
They descended past the second deck to the orlop. The cramped hallway was lined with small doorways, only two of which had actual, functional doors attached to the frames. At the end, it opened to the cargo hold, which was lined with wooden crates and damp burlap sacks that smelled musty and molded.
The ship groaned and whined as it rocked gently on the water. Sam hoped this was normal, suppressing the image of the rickety boat being tossed and torn apart by a storm swept sea.
“I made sure to get you one of the nice rooms,” Doctor Professor said as he opened one of the doors. Inside, three netted hammocks hung from iron nails. Each of the hammocks had so many snags and holes, Nate wondered if they’d even hold his weight. He had a terrible vision of tearing through the flimsy material in the middle of the night and splitting his head on the uneven wooden planks below.
In the corner was a bucket, the wood warped and stained from the unmentionable things that had been left in it.
“This is one of the nice rooms?” Charlie asked.
“Aye,” Doctor Professor said. “It has a door.” As if to demonstrate to them what a door was, he pulled it open and shut a few times, the rusted hinges screaming in anger at the sharp movements. “Just make sure you latch it at night.”
“Why?” Nate asked.
“Well, how do I put this delicately? These lads, they don’t see young, pretty things very often. They can get a bit aggressive.”
A shiver ran down Sam’s spine. “Great,” she said. “Glad to know I’m once again a target for handsy men.”
“We’ll keep watch,” Nate volunteered.
“Oh, it’s not just you, lass,” Doctor Professor said. “Your two friends are rather soft-looking. I’d recommend all three of you stick together, and stay in here once the sun sets.”
Sam laughed. Nate and Charlie did not.
“How long until we get to the Quorum of Trees?” Nate asked, trying to ignore the growing disquiet in the pit of his stomach.
“’Tis a six-day journey to the Isle of the Sacred Wood,” Doctor Professor said. “If the winds favor us, perhaps five.”
They heard a loud bell sounding.
“We’re about to set sail. Come.”
Nate felt a sense of relief he hadn’t known possible as they returned to the surface of the ship, the cool ocean breeze filling his lungs and purging the unholy smells of what he incorrectly assumed was the poop deck.
Several long oars appeared from the belly of the ship as it lurched out to sea. Sam couldn’t help but smile as Nate and Charlie became uncomfortably aware of the leers the crusty sailors were sending their way. The kind of menacing, hungry looks a young girl gains a heightened awareness of at far too young an age.
Once clear of the docks, several leathery skinned sailors ran up and down the webbing of ropes like spiders, pulling the sails free, which snapped taut in the wind.
One of the men began to sing, his voice stringy and ragged from years of whiskey and hard living. As he sang, the other sailors joined in, either singing or stomping in rhythm as they worked.
Pull ye down, red rose, pull down
Work til ye wear the bone crown
One day soon, when the work is done
With the ol’ black sailor, we’ll go
We’d be alright if there was wind in our sail
If the sea kept us fed with a fatty whale
But we’ll be happy just to stay afloat
So pull, my bully boys pull
There once was a ship that put to sea
Her captain a man as brave as we
A storm was brewing that all could see
But their treasure, they’d not forgo
So the ship set sail, ignored the plea
Despite the squall, they set to sea
But the water she fought like a mad banshee
And pulled that ship below
The captain screamed, his sailors lost
Upon the waters, they were tossed
By wood and blood, they paid the cost
Their pride their truest foe
Upon their corpse, the crows did feast
From the richest man down to the least
None escaped, not beggar nor priest
To tell their tale of woe
Pull ye down, red rose, pull down
Work til ye wear the bone crown
One day soon, when the work is done
With the ol’ black sailor, we’ll go
The lyrics did little to soothe the nerves as Whitespire slipped into the distance. Soon, they were alone in the deep blue.
“What are we doing?” Sam asked as the three of them stared at churning water.
“Actively holding back vomit,” Charlie answered. He swallowed hard.
“You okay?” Nate asked.
“Great. How are you?” Charlie gripped the splintered railing so tight, his knuckles whitened.
“I mean, here. What are we doing? This isn’t some game. People are dying, and we’re supposed to save the world?”
Nate picked at the dirt under his fingernails. “I’ve been thinking the same thing. I worry we’re going to let everyone down. I don’t need them to make me feel like a disappointment. That’s my dad’s job.”
“And your prom date,” Charlie said through gritted teeth. His face had turned a pallid shade of green.
“So what are we doing?” Sam pressed.
“What can we do?” Nate asked. “I mean that, sincerely. Do we give up? Live out sad lives of quiet desperation in this weird place? Learn how to farm, marry some ugly villager with bad hygiene? Have fifteen children, half of whom will die before turning two?”
Sam shrugged. “Maybe. Would that be worse than a horrible death being devoured by some monster? You saw what the Queen of Storms did. And the Magister of Rot. We can’t defeat them, Nate. We barely existed in high school, and even that nearly killed us.”
“You’re probably right. We can’t defeat them,” Nate conceded. “But I don’t think we have to. The prophecy doesn’t say that we do anything except find the heir of this Brenius guy, right?”
Sam nodded.
“We have to at least try, don’t we? Find the heir, and the heir will do the dirty work. That seems within the realm of our admittedly meager skillset.”
“Nate, you struggle to find a date even when catfishing.”
“If that’s true, then why does my grandma say I’m taller and handsomer every time I see her?”
“Because she’s old Nate. She’s shrinking and her eyes are getting worse.”
“Just hear me out, and if you don’t agree, then we’ll argue some more. Yes, this place is terrifying. Yes, we could die any second. Yes, there are horrible monsters around every corner that could eat us, not to mention disease, accidents, or plain bad luck.”
“You make a compelling argument. I think I’d like to sign up for your newsletter.”
“But-” he continued. “This place also has magic. And wonder. And real-life Jedi with real-life powers that we can learn. All that time we spent pretending to be important, pretend to save the day and help the downtrodden… Now we have the chance to actually do something.”
Sam bit her lip. She’d never seen Nate this passionate before. For a moment, she had a disconcerting feeling of attraction. She turned to Charlie in an attempt to quash the feelings before she thought to long on them. “Charlie, as much as I enjoy the break from your self-described genius, you’ve been unusually silent.”
Charlie’s mouth was pulled into a tight line. He blinked slowly, and opened his mouth to speak, but instead doubled over, unleashing a torrent of vomit over the side of the boat, some of which sprayed up in the sharp wind, spattering on Nate’s arm and neck.
“Charlie!” was all Nate could shout as he backed away.
Charlie unleashed another volley of thick bile. “Nooo…” he said softly, his voice weak. “My food! It never got the chance to become my poop.” He watched faintly as several fish swirled in his mess. “At least it’s not going to waste, I guess…”
Sam and Nate managed to drag Charlie below, pushing him heavily into one of the hammocks. Nate gingerly slid the slop bucket near his friend, who moaned softly.
“Look,” Nate said. “I’m not saying we should do anything stupid. The first law is there for a reason. I’m just saying, we have to try, right?”
“I suppose,” Sam muttered, before falling silent.
They stayed mostly sequestered in their room, the door shut, eating sad meals of hardtack and salted fish. Charlie ate nothing, only taking small sips of water between long hours of rest. The hammock helped ease his nausea, but the moment he put his feet on the floor, his mouth would begin to water and his ears itched.
On the third night, Nate was restless. He hated being cooped up for this long. The air was stale, and with nothing to read and no TV to watch, boredom began to gnaw at the edges of his mind. Sam was unusually redolent, and he didn’t want to pry. It was late, he didn’t know exactly what hour, but he knew most of the sailors would be asleep.
Stretching, he slipped out of the room, and made his way to the deck. The stars were out in force, so brilliant and numerous there was barely any room for the inky gloom of space.
The deck was empty. A single lantern shone on the second tier of the ship, where Nate presumed the captain or first mate stood at the whipstaff, keeping them on course. High above, he could hear a sailor, perched in a crow’s nest, whistling one of the jaunty tunes the sailors sang for hours on end. The repetitive nature of life at sea had begun to grate on Nate’s nerves. The same food, the same songs, the same labor.
To his left, Nate heard a loud splash as something heavy hit the water.
“Help!” he heard a female voice gasp and sputter. “Help!”
He bent over the railing. There in the water, he saw a woman struggling against the churning water. The current pulled at her feet, and her mouth filled with briny water. Struggling, she surfaced, gasping for air. “Help!”
Nate ran along the railing. “Hey! Hey, are you okay?”
She plunged again into the dark water. Splashing wildly, she resurfaced. Nate blushed. The rough waters had torn her clothes free.
“Help!”
Nate glanced around in a panic. The boat was a tangle of ropes and knots, but Nate had no idea as to their purpose, or how to get them free.
“Help!”
In a panic, he yanked a coiled length of rope free. Leaning far over the edge, he tossed it to the woman. His throw went wide.
“Help!”
Pulling the rope up, he tried again, cursing his lack of physical coordination as it once again missed the mark.
“Help!”
Seeing no alternative, Nate quickly tied one end of the rope to the railing, praying that his memory of the knots Charlie had taught him on a camping trip four years earlier was accurate.
He then began to wrap the rope around his waist, tying another knot which he hoped was a bowline, He climbed up on the railing, but the twenty-foot drop to the frothing water below gave him pause. Even if he got to her, would she have the strength to pull herself out of the water and up? Would Nate?
He took a deep breath and started to step forward, when a rough pair of hands grabbed his arm, yanking him roughly down.
“What’re ye doin’? Have ye gone mad?” Captain Grunties shouted, his anger sent a trail of spittle down his chin.
“There’s a woman drowning!”
“Don’t be a fool! There ain’t no woman on this boat but the one yeh brought with yeh.”
“But-” Nate pointed over the edge of the boat, where the woman continued to struggle, battered by the waves their boat cut in the black water.
“Help!”
“Feh!” Captain Grunties spat. “Taint no woman. Use yer brains, boy - if she’s drowning, how come she ain’t far behind the boat by now?”
Nate opened his mouth to respond, but couldn’t. The captain was right; it made no sense. Unless she was swimming alongside the boat.
“Help!”
“Oh, shut yer gob!” Captain Grunties shouted down. If the woman heard him, she did not seem to understand, as she continued to cry for help.
“What is she?”
Captain Grunties searched the deck for a moment, and grabbed a mop that leaned against a splintering crate.
“Watch this,” he said with a wink, before tossing the mop overboard.
It hit the water with a soft splash, right next to the woman.
“Help!” she repeated, before grasping the mop head in her arms. The water around her suddenly lurched up as a massive maw, ten feet across, broke the surface.
The woman began to screech, making an unholy sound as she floated out of the water. Nate could see now: she was completely naked, though the bottom half of her torso was a far less convincing simulacrum than the top. Her legs fused at the ankle, and her feet melted into a twisted, thick tentacle.
You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.
The beast it was attached to was something out of Nate’s nightmares. It had rows of enormous jagged teeth, each several feet long. As it breached the surface, Nate could see a dozen black eyes along the creature’s narrow head - monstrous, cold, and indifferent.
The woman dropped the mop into the thing’s gullet, and the huge jaws snapped shut, spraying Nate with water mingled with thick saliva. The mop splintered and cracked as it bit down. Nate shuddered to think of what would have happened to his bones had he jumped in.
Another loud crunch, and the monster slowly slid back into the sea, leaving nothing but a placid surface and the gentle taping of water. Had he not witnessed the monstrosity himself, there would be little evidence of its presence.
“Yer a brave lad,” the captain said, clapping Nate on the back. “Not bright, but brave. Best be leavin’ the sailin’ to us.”
Nate stayed in their room for the remainder of the trip.
On the fifth day, Doctor Professor called them to the deck. “Thought you might like to see where we’re headed.”
The island looked as though it had been torn in half. The outside edges were gentle beaches that slowly sloped upward, until they came to a sharp mountain range, which ended in craggy ridges that dropped straight to the scabrous water that moiled endlessly.
A thick mist hung in the air, making the entire island look hazy, as if floating in a cloud. Above the island, clouds swirled and circled, creating a spiral pattern, as though the island were in the center of a hurricane.
At the far end, there was a volcano-shaped mountain that glowed an angry red. The island was lush and verdant, and even from this distance, they could detect the scent of perfumed flowers and exotic fruits.
“There are few who lay eyes on the Sacred Isle,” Doctor Professor said. “Even fewer who sat foot on it. Come, let us make preparations for our landing.”
They filled their packs with hardtack, salted fish, and other supplies for the journey. Once they made landing, it would be a two days hike to the Quorum of Trees.
As they climbed into one of the small rowboats, Doctor Professor spoke softly with Captain Grunties. The captain handed Doctor Professor a small clay jar that was sealed with mud. The two men clasped arms before Doctor Professor climbed down.
Two heavy set sailors began to turn a massive winch, slowly lowering them into the water.
“We should be all set,” Doctor Professor said, as he slid the jar into his pack. “The captain will return here each morning for the next week to pick us up when we’re ready.”
“For the next week? What about after that?” Sam asked.
“If we aren’t back by then, we aren’t coming back at all,” Doctor Professor answered matter-of-factly. “So I suppose he’ll move on to his other business.”
“What did he hand you?” Nate asked.
“His wife.”
“She lives in a jar?” Charlie asked, his lips cracked and dry from the near constant vomiting. “That seems super convenient.”
“His wife died many years ago. These are her ashes.”
A sheepish “oh,” was all Charlie could muster in response.
“She had seen the Sacred Isle several times in their journeys together. She asked that her remains be sprinkled here, so she could rest eternally in the Aether in a place of beauty.”
“Why doesn’t he come with to do it himself?”
Doctor Professor smiled gently. “Captain Grunties is a good man. But like many good men, he doesn’t see himself that way. The Sacred Isle has a way of bringing out the best and the worst in you. I think he’s afraid of what he’ll see in himself, were he to set foot there.”
The boat hit the water sharply. Doctor Professor grabbed the two long, bent oars, and handed one to Nate, using the other to push them free from the ropes. He waved his hand at the sailors, who began to wind the ropes back up.
It was several more hours before they made landfall. Nate’s meager arm strength and endurance were no match for Doctor Professor, so they frequently veered from a direct course, forcing them to paddle awkwardly to straighten their path before continuing.
Finally, the boat lurched as it dragged through the soft sand. They jumped out into the clear water, Charlie most enthusiastically, his joy at having both feet on solid earth overwhelming.
From their beach landing, a narrow white stone path wound its way through the green hills, which rolled toward the sky in a vain attempt to lick it. In the distance, the jagged mountains loomed.
“How far did you say it was?” Charlie asked.
“Out of breath already?” Sam smirked.
“She’s got a point,” Nate added. “When was the last time you ran? I mean with your actual legs, not by holding down a button on your controller.”
“Have you ever run before? It’s the worst.”
Doctor Professor cleared his throat. “If I may interject for a moment…”
They fell silent.
“This island is the most sacred location in our world. That may not mean much to you, but to us - to me - this is a rare pilgrimage. So it might be best if, how do I put this delicately…” He studied their faces for a moment. “It might be best if you don’t talk so much. Or at all.”
“None taken,” Charlie replied quietly.
“Pay attention to your feelings, reach out and expand your view of the world. You might be surprised what you find, and what you learn about yourself.”
With that, Doctor Professor slung his bag over his shoulder, and strolled away. Wordlessly, they followed.
Up and on, through the hillsides, they ascended the white path. Sam marveled at the stones, which were so clean that she suspected they might be whitewashed. They showed no sign of wear, no mark of dirt, each stone perfectly smooth and laid into an intricate pattern of sizes that had no logical repetition, like a perfectly chaotic, monochrome mosaic.
As they moved further into the wilderness, the brume began to thicken. The air smelled dewy and sweet and reminded Nate of the summers spent at his aunt’s peach orchard in Oklahoma.
Soon, the thin shrubs and briars gave way to trees, seemingly as ancient as the earth itself. Seeing them from the boat had failed to reveal their true size; trunks twice as thick as a car, with grasping, twisted branches that could crush a man if they fell.
The group made camp at dusk. The sunset lit the world ablaze. The heavy mists sparkled and radiated the apricot fire that reflected on the clouds. They ate in silence as darkness fell, warming themselves by the fire that Doctor Professor built and stoked through the night.
Their dreams will fitful and uneasy, filled with whispered warnings just out of earshot. But a feeling of peace pervaded the air, seeping into their bones in a way they would never be able to describe when they tried to recount the experience.
They broke camp at dawn, eating dry hardtack as they followed the alabaster stream of stones. The forest thickened, the colossal trees blotting out the sunlight almost entirely. Doctor Professor stopped briefly to light and hand each of them a torch as the light dimmed.
The path led to a sheer cliff wall. The slate stone ran nearly vertical with deep furrows running up its face. The path followed the wall, until another rose from the ground on the opposite side, giving Sam the feeling of being an ant walking in a deep crack in the concrete sidewalk near her home.
Charlie craned his head. “What are those?” His words startled Nate and Sam, having walked in placid stillness for so long. Their eyes followed his gaze.
High above them, at the edge of the cliff walls, were rough stone figures, spaced about fifty paces apart. They resembled humans, stooped and bent reverently as if in worship. From their back sprouted long, wing-like shapes.
They were ancient, as though they had perhaps been carved and unblemished, but all the detail had been worn and weathered from the surface, leaving only vague smears of features.
Some had their hands folded on their laps as they kneeled, others their arms held up toward the heavens, their palms open as if waiting to receive some sort of celestial favor.
“Those are the stone angels,” Doctor Professor answered.
“Who carved them?” Sam asked. “They’re beautiful.”
“Carved them? Nobody carved them. They’re natural rock formations.”
“How is that possible?” Nate asked incredulously.
“I told you, this is a sacred place,” Doctor Professor answered simply, before turning and continuing down the path.
Several hours later, still under the watchful gaze of the stone angels, the cliffs split, widening into a ring lined with more of the craggy seraphs. The ground descended sharply before flattening in a vaguely bowl shape. In the center of the stony ring was a thicket of trees so tightly packed together that Nate was quit certain he couldn’t squeeze his fist between two of the broad trunks.
The pearly path led to the only opening in the copse, an archway where two of the massive trees left a ten-foot space, their thick branches twined and curled together above in a natural arch. Thick moss hung like ropes over the entrance.
It was impossible to tell what time of day it was; the only light was from the gentle flicker of their torches. Sam stopped, startled to see the first animal life since their arrival on the island.
The creatures resembled a locust, but much larger, nearly eighteen inches in length. Their wings buzzed loudly as they flitted near the trees.
As the group got closer, they could see their chitinous bodies were humanoid in shape, with long arms and legs that each had two extra joints. Their three elongated fingers and thumbs ended it sharp black claws.
But the face was the most startling. Each of the creatures had enormous eyes that looked almost human, and burned with intelligence. Their fanged maws had two small pincers to either side.
Sam approached one wide-eyed. “What are these things, Doctor Professor?”
“I’m a wisp,” the creature answered, its voice thin and tinny. “And I have a name, thank you very much.”
“Oh!” Sam said, startled. “I didn’t realize you could talk.”
“Of course you didn’t,” it replied as it did a small loop in the air. “Being an arrogant human, you naturally assume everything around you is of a lower order; lacking perspicacity.”
“I’m not arrogant!”
“Tell me,” the creature whirred above her. “Did your lack of self-awareness play a part in your parent’s divorce?”
“How could you know-“
“Wisps are the keepers of the sacred grove, where the Quorum of Trees reside, “Doctor Professor answered. “Their connection to the Aether is strong. It is said they can see the unseen.”
The creature turned to Nate. “Want me to look into your soul next?”
“Uh, sure? I guess?”
The creature pressed two of its long fingers into its temple, and closed its eyes in mock concentration.
“I see…” it said. “I see that you have the personality of a salad warmed in the microwave.”
Charlie laughed. “I like this guy.”
“Hag is my name, not that any of you were polite enough to ask.”
“Nice to meet you, Hag,” Charlie said, holding out his hand.
Hag swooped over to Charlie, grasping and searching his hand. “I don’t get it. Where’s my present?”
“Present? What do you mean?”
Hag zipped up to Charlie’s forehead, and began knocking on it like a ripe melon. “Is your head decorative?”
“We should be going,” Doctor Professor said, shoeing Hag away with a hand.
“Of course, go, why would you want to talk with poor Hag? I only take care of the place, keep things clean, make sure the trees are fed, maintain the whole sacred thing.”
The four of them passed through the arched entryway, ignoring the continued insults that Hag called after them.
“If you’re a teenager, why does Nate look like a forty-five-year-old encyclopedia salesman? If you’re looking for your missing chromosomes, you’re not going to find them in there.” Hag’s voice grew angrier as they ignored him. “I bet your dad wears skinny jeans to the gym. I will dance on all your graves!”
Hag’s voice faded as they were enveloped in serenity. They stayed on the stone path, even though the ground widened into a circular ring. It somehow felt wrong, blasphemous even, to consider setting foot on the verdurous ground.
The air was filled with the aroma of wet earth and exotic spices. Tiny flecks of glowing light, possibly fireflies, twisted and twined in the air in vast ripples, like the surface of a pond shimmering in starlight.
In the center of the small knoll stood twelve trees in a perfect ring, each tree a different species, some with rough rippling bark, others with smooth gray husk. One had brilliant orange leaves as small as Sam’s fingernail, another had waxy, heavy, green leaves twice as big as a Nate’s sizable head.
Each of the trees resembled an old man, their frames twisted and bent, their faces frozen in an expression of contemplation, their eyes twisted shut. Unlike the stone angels, they had detailed features; their wooden form a near perfect mimic of a human, though they stood at least four times as tall, with long branches sprouting from their backs and arms.
The path continued through a gap between two of the ancient trees, and led to an enormous, white stone that stood a few feet off the ground, like a platform. It had a rough, slightly uneven surface. At the center of the stone, as if blossoming from the rock itself, stood another tree, its form bent. It too had what appeared to be a face, and from the eyes poured a steady stream of water, as if the tree were weeping. The water ran into small channels along the white stone, spreading out and feeding the rest of the Quorum.
Doctor Professor approached the platform, stopping just short of it. He leaned over, and removed his boots.
“This is sacred ground we’re on,” he said in a hushed tone. “Do not defile it with your shoes.”
Sam resisted the urge to point out that Charlie’s thick, fungal-infested toenails were certainly more unholy than his boots.
The three of them removed their shoes, and followed Doctor Professor onto the ivory stage at the center of the quorum. Nate felt the smooth skin on the bottoms of his feet buzz and tickle, as if tiny jolts of electricity were running through the rock on which they stood.
He felt as though his chest was going to burst; it burned with an intensity he had never felt before. Looking at his friends, he could see this place was having a similar effect on them. Sam was trembling slightly, and Charlie looked even more haggard than usual.
Doctor Professor whispered to himself, his head bowed in silent prayer. Not knowing what else to do, they simply waited, not wanting to interrupt the otherworldly atmosphere that surrounded them.
Even the air felt sacred, like standing in some ancient cathedral, a primordial sacrament to a power they could sense, but not fully understand.
“We have come here as pilgrims, seekers of truth, and servants of the Luminous Aether,” Doctor Professor finally said. “Long has the Quorum been silent, but the Aether has brought us three travelers from a distant land. We seek your guidance, your council, and your wisdom. Please, speak to us. Impart your grace, judgment, and prudence. For what purpose were these three brought to us?”
Silence.
They waited. And waited. They waited for a long time; how long, Charlie struggled to determine. It could have been hours.
Doctor Professor sighed. “I don’t think they’ll be speaking to us today.”
“Why not?” Nate asked. “Why did they stop talking?”
“Because of that,” Doctor Professor said, pointing to one of the trees. Its arms were crossed over its chest, its hands and fingers curled as if it were grasping something invisible. Or something that had been taken.
“It has been twenty years since the Queen of Storms, once the head of our order, came here to the Sacred Grove and stole the Heart of Trees.”
“What is the Heart of Trees?” Charlie asked.
“A blade, a weapon made of black wood said to be taken from the tree of knowledge, one of the sacred twin trees, the first life Eloa planted upon our world. It is said to grant the wielder tremendous power and the ability to control the dark Aether. It corrupted the Queen of Storms, twisted her will to its insidious end.”
“Did you know her?”
“Aye, not well. But I knew her. ’Twas a dark day indeed when she fell from the light.”
Sam noticed another of the Quorum, a tall beech sitting directly across from where the Heart of Trees should be, grasping a long, white spear in a numinous embrace.
“And that?” she asked, pointing at the blade.
“That is the Soul of Trees, the most potent artifact of the light Aether, made from the other twin sacred tree, the Tree of Life. The spears of the Soldiers of the Sun are modeled after it.”
Sam slowly approached the weapon, fascinated. “Why is it here?” she asked. “I mean, why doesn’t Alianna or one of the Kings have it?”
“It is prophesied that only the strongest and most noble Soldier of the Sun, the paragon of virtue, will ever be able to wield it. Many have tried, but none have yet been found worthy to pull the blade from the Quorum’s grasp.”
Sam hesitated a moment before reaching out and grasping the weapon. Her body surged with power. She could feel her skin stiffen and prickle as though her sleeping muscles had suddenly found blood again. Her bones rattled and her teeth itched. It made her eyes water.
She pulled, but the blade wouldn’t budge. She squeezed her eyes shut and concentrated on the feeling in her chest. She tried to reach out with her feelings, to see as she had before - not with her eyes, but with her emotions.
Once more she pulled, but the trees grasp seemed to tighten. She released her grip.
“Did you really think that would work?” Charlie smirked.
Sam shrugged as she blushed. “Was worth a shot.”
“Well, if the chosen one is done failing, I think we need to figure out an alternate plan here,” Nate said.
“What do you mean?” Charlie asked.
“Well, we know we have to find the hand of Brenius the Divine, and find his heir, right?”
Charlie nodded.
“Well, if I’ve learned anything from the excessive hours spent watching movies, and I like to think that I have, we should assemble a team.”
“A team?” Sam was skeptical.
“No, he’s right,” Charlie said. “Didn’t the prophecy say we’d gather the greatest heroes of the age or something?”
Nate nodded. “Think about it, there’s the Fellowship of the Ring, the Dirty Dozen, the Seven Samurai, the Avengers, the non-union terrible Avengers knock-off that is Justice League-“
“Okay, I get your point,” Sam interrupted. “But who?”
“Easy,” Charlie said. “How long have we played Dungeons and Dragons? Everyone knows a balanced party consists of a Healer, a Thief, a Wizard, and a Fighter.”
“That’s so formulaic,” Sam said.
“You say that as if it’s a bad thing. Formulas exist because they work.”
“We’ve already got the Healer covered.” Nate gestured towards Doctor Professor. “So that leaves us the rogue, spellcaster, and warrior left to find. I wonder if Alianna would join us.”
“I wouldn’t expect so,” Doctor Professor said. “She’ll be busy making preparations for the coming war.” He hefted his mace over his shoulder. “But, if this is what you feel is the best course of action, I think I can help create a list of candidates.”
Nate looked at his friends. “Unless one of you has a better suggestion.”
“I think it’s great,” Charlie said.
“I vote we bring two wizards along,” Sam said. “It goes back to the well-known adage; two fireballs are always better than one.”
“Is that a well-known adage?” Nate asked.
“Nagasaki and Hiroshima think so,” Charlie said.
“I should warn you,” Doctor Professor said. “If the Conclave catches wind of your plan, and it seems likely they will, they may send the Brotherhood of Smoke after you.”
“Brotherhood of Smoke?” Charlie asked. “Let me guess, the nefarious thieves guild that somehow is both a complete secret and also completely known with excellent brand recognition, tattooed symbols, and their own coded language.”
“Well… they’re assassins, not thieves.”
“Of course they are,” Sam laughed.
“You would be wise to take the Brotherhood a bit more seriously. They move unseen, quiet as shadows, and end life on a whim. They have toppled kingdoms, and if they set their sights on you three, it could mean a nasty end before your journey has even begun.”
The smile faded from Sam’s face as they pondered yet another potential doom in this strange land.
“When the Brotherhood of Smoke kills the three of you, I think I’ll buy them dinner to express my gratitude,” Hag said, startling Charlie.
“Geez, where did you come from?”
“Your mom’s house.”
“Charlie never met his mom,” Sam said. “She left before he was born.”
Doctor Professor glanced at Nate, who could only smile apologetically.
“Best be getting back to the ship,” Doctor Professor said before trudging away, his shoulders stooped, his step less springy.
#
As darkness fell, they huddled around their campfire which spat and popped, the wood wet and musty. Doctor Professor seemed more sullen than usual as Sam attempted to throw chunks of hardtack into Charlie’s gaping mouth.
Nate sat down next to the dwarf, watching him as he poked aimlessly at the fire with a stick.
“If it makes you feel better, I’m thinking the same thing,” Nate finally said.
“Aye? What’s that?”
“That maybe the Aether made a mistake bringing us here.”
Doctor Professor continued to stare into the fire as small sparks twirled and danced through the air before sputtering to ash.
“All I can keep thinking, is why us? Why would the Aether, of all the people in all the worlds that could exist, choose three idiots to come save your world? It doesn’t make any sense.”
“You’re right, it doesn’t,” Doctor Professor said. “But I have faith. Faith in the Aether. Having faith is like swimming in the ocean. You have to trust it. You can’t grasp the water, or hold it, or you sink and drown. But if you let yourself go, relax, and trust, you will float.”
Nate stared into the fire. “Faith consists in believing when it is beyond the power of reason to believe. It is inherently irrational.”
“I didn’t know you studied the Apocryphon of Thespia,” Doctor Professor said.
“I don’t know what that is. I was quoting Voltaire. He was a philosopher. From where we came from.”
“Strange. It is almost word for word from the Apocryphon, one of our holy writs.”
“You have scripture?”
“Oh, aye, lad. Much has been written about the Luminous Aether.”
The two watched the coals seethe and bristle.
“Who was Brenius the Divine?” Nate finally asked. “If we’re supposed to find his lost heir, knowing who he was might help.”
Doctor Professor ran a hand along the length of his beard, before waving it over the fire. The flames and smoke seemed to coalesce, to bend and dance until Nate could see shapes, as if the fire were animating a cartoon.
He saw men, farming, working, building.
“During the second age, after the primordial races overthrew the Ancients, man began to tame the earth, to shape it to their will.
“Thus began the second age. The Age of Division.” The men greeted dwarves and elves and other exotic-looking races that Nate was unfamiliar with. They exchanged gifts, laying fruit and grains at each other’s feet. “After the first war, they primordials met others, and formed alliances. Friendships. It was a time of peace and growth.”
“Who were the primordial races?”
“The first children of Eloa; the elves, the dwarves, the humans, the orcs, and the goblins.”
“Elves and dwarves we’ve seen. But no goblins or orcs.”
“They are dead. Wiped out at the end of the Fourth Age. The last of the Goblin Lords, and the Orc King Magra were slain by the Soldiers of the Sun, and their blight has not been seen in our lands since.”
The people in the fire began to move objects using the Aether, using it to farm, to build castles and mine ore. “No one knows for certain how or when our ancestors first learned to use the Aether under the Ancients. But the world was a paradise.”
Nate could see vast cities sprouting up across the vast terrain. The people played music and games and lived in peace. He could see the whole world, and the people there, content, and happy.
“Then came the black star.”
A meteor screamed through the sky, exploding into the land, sending a wave of destruction across the continent. Flames consumed the terrified people, who screamed mutely in horror as they tried in vain to escape the coming doom.
“In a single moment, the world was shattered. A kingdom erased. The survivors mourned. This marked the end of peace, and the beginning of the Time of Sorrows.”
Nate saw suffering on a scale he had never imagined. Hunger, anger, conflict, a stark contrast to the veritable paradise he had seen in the spitting smoke.
“The black star marked this world. Its heart was filled with a corruption that spread, changing everything it touched.”
Black tendrils scoured the land. Nate watched in mute horror as a deer was trapped by the inky void, its body growing and swelling in unnatural ways. New mouths appeared seemingly at random as its flesh burbled and distended and tore. It sprouted wings and tentacles and fangs, a chimeric mass of flesh.
“From that corruption appeared a new enemy. Nihilus.”
A giant creature emerged from the dead lands, towering over the trees. It wore black robes that shifted like crude oil in water. It had four long arms, each ending in claws, and wore a silver crown that masked its long face. The only facial features that could be seen were three eyes, stacked vertically. Nate could feel cold hatred radiating from the creature.
A vast, chittering army of defiled creatures emerged from behind Nihilus, babbling and snarling like madness.
“Nihilus’ armies swept across the land like a plague.”
Scenes of destruction and death. Hungry maws feeding on men, women, and children of all races. Even Sam and Charlie had stopped their bickering. The world had fallen silent, as if the trees were listening to the story.
“The orcs and goblins joined Nihilus in his black crusade. Those who remained formed an alliance to oppose Nihilus. Kings marshaled their forces.”
Armies clashed on a scale that was difficult to comprehend. Endless waves of monsters crashed into a vast ocean of soldiers. Death was everywhere. The soldiers fell back in horror as their fallen comrades would twist and change, and rise again from the earth as bent marionettes, slavering and attacking their former friends.
“Cities were abandoned by their kings, leaving the citizens defenseless, unaware that death was coming for them.”
Creatures poured over city walls and bulwarks as commoners fled before the onslaught.
“But there was one who would not run. One who refused to abandon the innocent. A simple farmer who had taken up the blade to defend his home.”
A man stood, alone, surrounded by the monsters who hesitated, as if repelled by some unseen force. The man raised his spear, which burst into white flame.
“Brenius the Divine. Chaperon of the Cosmos. The first of our order. The first to wield the Luminous Aether as a weapon against the powers of darkness.”
They watched as Brenius fought like a warrior poet, dancing with his glowing blade, striking the beasts down. The monsters fled the city in terror.
“After his victory, Brenius taught others this power. Noble souls, pure of heart, who brokered no fear. Those willing to give their all, lay down their lives if necessary, to protect the innocent.”
More soldiers appeared, each wielding a crackling blade. Brenius led them into battle against the stygian horde. The tide was turned. The chimeras fell before the knights.
“Nihilus led a final desperate attack against the city of Gogratha. There, he met Brenius in battle.”
Nihilus waded through the chaotic mass of bodies, broken armor, blood, sweat, and flame. Brenius was minuscule in comparison, but nevertheless charged his enemy boldly. The two clashed and the fire cracked like thunder. In a flare of sparks and ash, the vision ended.
“Brenius and Nihilus were both destroyed in the conflagration. All that remained of the noblest of our kind was a single hand, still gripping his spear that broke the silver mask of Nihilus. The same sacred spear you saw at the Quorum of the Trees.”
“And this is the hand we’re supposed to find?” Sam asked.
“Aye. ’Twas a sacred relic of our order for generations. But, like many holy things, it fell into shadow and was lost to history in the third age during the wars of Magnus the Riddle.”
“How will we find it?” Charlie asked.
“That, I cannot say.”
“And the heir; how will we find him?” Sam asked.
“If I knew, I would tell ye,” Doctor Professor said. “We must trust to the Aether. As Brenius did.”
His eyes burned into Nate, holding his gaze. “There were many who looked upon Brenius and saw only an uneducated farmer. But the Aether knew there was more to him. It knew that he held within the seeds of greatness.”
The words hung heavy in the air like fog, oppressive and claustrophobic. Nate felt dizzy.
“It is late. We should sleep,” Doctor Professor said, wrapping himself in his cloak and leaning against a mossy rock.
Nate slept fitfully, as he had since arriving in this bizarre world. His impressive list of neurosis had only expanded since becoming a stranger in a strange land, and he half expected to wake up in his bedroom back home, covered in what he would hope were sweat-soaked sheets.
It was midday when they arrived back at the warm beach where their boat was moored. As they pushed their boat to sea, a bitter sense of loss, as if they were somehow leaving home for the last time, penetrated their bones. A mournful silence set in, and they rowed in the wordless sorrow of a funeral.
It wasn’t until they had paddled nearly halfway to the carrack that Charlie noticed his bag moving.
“I swear, if it’s a rat…” he muttered as he cautiously unbuckled the clasp holding it closed. Out burst Hag.
“Finally, some fresh air! Do your friends know about the constant farting?” Hag asked Charlie.
“Hag?” Nate sighed. “Why are you here?”
“Is that any way to greet an old friend?”
“Didn’t you tell us you were going to dance on our graves?”
“Oh, that. I wasn’t trying to make a statement, I just had low blood sugar.”
“Do we take him back?” Sam asked. “Or just squish him?”
Hag fell to his knees at the bottom of the boat. “Please, take me with you,” he said in his most pitiful sounding voice. “I’ve never seen anything beyond this island. I want to see the world. Really experience life, you know? I want to punch a goat and eat pickles and get a rash and host a cocktail party.”
“That is a weirdly specific list,” Sam said.
“Please,” Hag begged. “Please take me with you. Don’t you ever get lonely?”
“My loneliness is constant.” Nate answered.
“I promise I won’t be a burden. I can help! I can fly, did you know that?” He buzzed and twirled in circles overhead. “None of you can fly, I bet. Too fat. Have you ever considered going for a jog? You’re shaped like bowling pins.”
“How do you know what a bowling pin is?” Charlie asked.
“Do you not know what one is?” Hag asked.
“I do, I just didn’t know you had bowling here.”
“You seem slow. Is he slow?” Hag asked Sam.
“Yes. Yes, he is,” Sam said with a grin.
“Please let me stay. I’ll even help with the slow one. Make sure he wears a helmet and gets correct change when making purchases. Look, look!”
Hag disappeared with an audible pop. He reappeared a few seconds later. “I can even turn invisible! That’s useful, right?”
“Would have come in handy at my niece’s Christening, that’s for sure,” Charlie said, as he and Sam looked to Nate.
“Fine,” Nate said, against his better judgment. His mind was running through a litany of reasons not to bring Hag with, but something about it felt right. Like Hag needed to be with them. He couldn’t explain it, but it nagged at him like an itch at the back of his skull that he couldn’t quite scratch.
“Yay!” Hag danced in the air as he flitted around their heads. “I promise you won’t regret it. I won’t even bring up the fact that you look like a thumb.”
“I already regret this decision,” Nate said.