"What do you mean you're leaving?" Questions a slender yet sturdy greyed man. He wore a long brown leather coat, under which he had a white shirt. There he was, positioned as he always used to be - leant up against a wall smoking a pipe. The pungent earthy smell filled the room completely, and the smoke itself sent an uncomfortable itch down Landry's throat. Looking up at Varick, he saw the only father figure he'd had in the last six years, the only person who had been powerful enough to protect him in the slums where he ended up.
"I've told you, time and time again, that this is wrong. I can't be a part of it any longer." Landry explains, his voice the high pitch of a twelve year old's and containing the shake of one about to run away. "You didn't change, you won't change." Every word, an inch closer to the door.
Clearing his throat and stroking his beard, the wrinkled man pushed himself off the wall and took a step towards the boy, "The world isn't how you'd like it to be, I know that. But we both got dealt a bad hand, you worse than most people... I've managed to shield you from the world's hardships, and this is how you treat me? Like I'm some common criminal? What we do here, we do to survive!" His voice picks up, attracting the attention of someone sleeping on the mattress to the side of them. She sat up, a tangled mess of black hair hiding most of her face, except for her piercing blue eyes. I'm sorry I have to go. The boy thinks, looking at the girl who had been with him for so much. His only friend for so many years, taken in under Varick's care just like him. She was only a year younger than him, yet he felt responsible, and guilty.
"Go back to sleep, Maliah." Varick says, lowering his tone and as instructed, she fell back onto the bed and covered her head with an old pillow. "Why are you doing this? Because of the cons? You're no better than me, or her, Landry." He reached out his hand, his bitten fingernails out towards Landry. "We both know who you really are, son. You aren't cut from the same cloth as us down here," he hesitates, "silk tears more easily than wool."
"I won't last if I stay." On the last word, he turns around and clutches onto a red cloak by the door. Pulling it off a hook on the wall, he swings it round and onto his shoulders - far too big for him. Then, with a slight hesitation he looks at the table next to him. On top, lays an ominous red lantern, containing a red flame that whirled around inside as if it were alive. By the side of it, a sheathed sword with an ornate bronze handle. They had a familiar look about them, but he couldn't quite place where he had seen them. They were like a hazy memory - something etched in the back of his mind - long forgotten.
"If you're really leaving, then I got these out of storage for you. You had them when I found you. I didn't want them getting nicked, so I hid them away." Varick sighs, rubbing the bridge of his nose, "If you leave, there's no coming back. You know that." His eyes met Landry's, an aged dusty green versus a youthful shadowed brown. His eyes spoke more than his words did, Landry could see the hardships Varick faced, he knew he hadn't the easiest life, but he couldn't follow him any longer.
"Tell Mal I said goodbye." With tears welling up, he hastily pulls the sword and lantern off of the table and runs through the door. They weren't just tears for leaving, for now he was out of the warmth of that small hutch, and into the cold darkness of the night. Before everything was certain, Varick would make sure of their survival. Now nothing was, there was no guarantee he would see the sunrise.
"Get up, we're almost there!" An excited voice shouts, and everything goes black for a moment; then Landry finally opens his eyes, the light of the sunrise illuminating them like a pane of stained glass. He had been slouched against the side of the ferry, and due to this he awoke with immense aching all over his body. I haven't had a dream like that in quite a while. He hoped he wouldn't experience anymore, as it had taken a great deal to lock away his past.
In front of him stood the same girl from his dream, only older with her hair much more neatly arranged. A large shadow was cast across a great portion of Lake Laga, engulfing the entire ferry along with it. As Landry became more aware of his surroundings, he began to notice the edge of tree canopies above them, far above. Standing up, supporting his body weight on the railings at either side of the Lake Lugger, the full extent of the Wyrmwood came into view. Or rather, only a small portion of what they could physically see. It looked more like a colossal wall of bark, with large branches sticking out at different areas that could be trees in of themselves.
"We'll be arrivin' at one of them large sap-mining cities sooner or later, I forget the name of it." Orryn's father spoke, deep in thought as he tried to recall the name. The harsh creaking of branches, and the brush of thousands of leaves erupted as a gust of wind passed through the Wyrmwood, rocking the ferry abruptly.
"Virevale." Spoke Orryn, "That's where you always transport goods to and from." He shook his head, walking over to Landry. "It's quite a while before we'll reach there though, we'll have to get through the roots."
"The roots?" Maliah asked with a concerned expression, "Aren't they underwater?"
"Mostly, but they also spring up and over it. Especially around the edge of the Wood, which is why you can't just hire a boat to take you in - it's the..." He glanced over at his father, "The captain, that's important."
Reaching onto his belt, he pulled off the same red lantern that he had dreamt about. He wasn't particularly surprised though, he always carried it with him - but due to the odd looks it received, he didn't like to keep it in view. The flame within was still alive and active, red like the metal that contained it. "I've heard of how dark it gets in there, we can use this."
With a raised brow, and a finger stroking his chin, Orryn gazed at the peculiar lantern - the same look that Landry tended to avoid. With a nervous chuckle he replied, "It won't last - we have fuel for that though. We'll be an hour or two in darkness."
"It doesn't go out. Doesn't need fuel." Landry spoke, almost an air of disgust in his voice as he spoke about it. The shine of the hilt of his sword also caught Orryn's eye, but the cloak quickly hid it again and he decided not to pry further.
"We'll need more than one, anyhow." Instructed Orryn's father, pointing to a tarp-covered pile at the other end of the ferry, "Light them lamps. Make sure the oils topped off, and for the love of everything do not hold them near the roots. Sometimes they leak sap, and if that lights then we're going to have more than darkness to worry about."
The three of them walked to the other end, wobbling as they did so, the waves of the lake acting against them. Pulling away the tarp, Orryn began passing the oil lamps back to Mal and Landry, who in turn began setting them up at different points along the ferry - until it was entirely lit up. It seemed rather backwards, lighting the lamps in the middle of the day - when the Sun was almost highest. Yet, the darkness that stared at them from beneath the roots beckoned them within.
"Why don't you just create some light with your magic?" Asked Orryn, finally properly speaking to Mal, "In case the oil doesn't last, I mean."
She looked at him as if she was tired of answering the same question, "It doesn't work that way. Magic isn't infinite, it's like a well - or a ball of yarn. The more you use, the smaller the ball gets and once you run out it's a day or two before you can replenish." She sighs, looking out to the distant shore, her black braid waving in the wind behind her, "I'm not going to over-exert myself where a flame does just as fine, unlike firewood, magic isn't something you can easily gather more of on the spot."
He put up his hands as if to give in to defeat, "Just wondering, Mal. All those wizards and magicians I've studied, they seem to be able to go on forever is all."
"Well, magic takes the form of threads. To cast a spell, it's called weaving. The technical term for magic users is weavers." She shook her head, "I digress. Weavers aren't identical, the length of their thread changes. The most powerful weavers are the ones with the longest lengths of thread, the highest capacity for magic."
Unbeknownst to her until that moment, Orryn had been writing notes in a journal of his, nodding as she went along. Her eyes narrowed, but Orryn didn't seem to notice, or he didn't care. "Fascinating. You weavers are so obscure, even Saint Lucent's doesn't have much on you."
"Well..." She was staring intently at his journal, caught off guard by his inquisitive nature, "There are so few of us, and we tend to horde our knowledge." The ferry jolted, scraping past a thick root beneath them. "Lessons over, school boy. We're about to start going through." With a quiet snap, he shuts his journal and heads to the front of the ferry. The potent smell of wet wood and moss filled all of their noses as they finally arrived at the very edge of the Wyrmwood, ready to travel inside.
"Now the only real danger is lighting any of that sap aflame, although if you see a pair of eyes you'd do best to look away from 'em. They'd either belong to a bat, or a mirebark. It best not be the latter." Instructed Orryn's father, as he lowered the speed of the Lake Lugger to gradually enter, the thick shadows of the roots quickly enveloping all of them. Soon enough, the light of day was only visible behind them, and all they had to prevent being ensnared by the dark were the oil lamps, casting a yellow light all around. Landry's lantern however cast a menacing red light, unsettling everybody aboard.
Deciding not to look into the darkness as per the instruction, Landry turned his back to it and sat down with his lantern in front of him, Orryn and Mal soon joining him in sitting around it. Orryn's father was intently manoeuvring around colossal jutting roots, to ensure that they actually remained afloat.
"How do you two know each other?" Orryn asked, finally breaking the silence between the three. With an awkward glance between them, they were deciding who should explain. Eventually, clearing his throat Landry spoke up.
"We grew up together." He said slowly, he hadn't talked about it to anybody after leaving so they felt like foreign words to him, a sentence of new meaning almost.
"Oh, childhood friends, huh?" Orryn spoke, a smile on his face.
"It's complicated." Mal murmured, her head down and her face hidden by her hair. Orryn looked at her with a concerned expression, and then back to Landry as if to silently ask what was wrong, but only receiving a head shake. He frowned, he never liked not getting answers.
"What about you? What's with you and your dad?" Landry finally asks, breaking the silence yet again.
"What do you mean?"
With a nod towards the man behind the wheel, a wooden pipe between his teeth, Landry reiterates. "You and him don't seem to get along that well. Not for father and son, at least."
"Oh, that." Orryn awkwardly chuckles, scratching at the back of his neck, "Well, ever since I got a scholarship for Saint Lucent High College, we haven't really seen eye to eye. Zalafold is a thousand miles away, if that, and I guess we just started sending fewer and fewer letters." With each word spoken, his tone shifted from one of curiosity to one much more grieving.
But he's still here. Why don't you do something about it? Landry thought to himself, but he knew Orryn's situation was different from his own. He hadn't the burden of worrying what his family thought about him, he hadn't had it for many years. Seeing the frown on Orryn's face, he decided to change the subject, "What's Saint Lucent like? The city, I mean." I've heard all about your school, everyone has.
"Oh, it's beautiful. The architecture is stunning, but where Zalafoldians really excel is their sculpture work!" His fire reignited, he was eager to tell Landry all about it - he didn't just love learning, he had a love for teaching as well.
"I've drawn some of it myself, there's this one main road at the very centre which has all sorts of great knights cast in stone at either side!" He reached into his satchel, pulling out his dusty journal once more and flipping through the pages before thrusting it into Landry's hands.
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As Landry looked down with a smile, he was met with a messy yet skilful sketch of a long tiled road, several carriages travelling down and up it. What was the real highlight though were the statues that Orryn had described, but his words hadn't done them justice. They were several times larger than the carriages below them, and each held up their sword in their right hand to a point - meeting the tip of the opposite's sword. It created a sort of arch-way several times across, with a canopy of blossoming vines finishing it into tunnel. Below, neatly written in ink was Orryn's own thoughts at the time - 'like a gateway into another world.' Now, those words do it far more justice. Looking through some more pages, sketches filled each corner of them perfectly, and they got better the more recent they got.
"These are very good," he smiled, handing the journal back. Finally lifting her head up again, relinquishing it's grasp on her face, Mal gave them both a soft smile.
"Saint Lucent is beautiful," She said, "But they have awful food." She chuckled, causing the other two to laugh as well. "Elduira on the other hand - beautiful food, equally beautiful buildings but the Emperor is an awful man." She paused, "An amazing ruler, though."
"Alysair? I've heard he rules with an iron fist." Orryn remarked.
"More like a golden one."
The darkness around them only became thicker, a claustrophobic black blanket that left only the three's faces visible, although painted the red of the lantern. Orryn finally cleared his throat, picking up the courage to ask the question which had been racking his brain for the last several minutes, ever since he laid eyes on it.
"What kind of lantern is that?" He said, leaning in with one eye to the side of it, staring down the flame within. "It's clearly a magical artefact, but..." He stroked his chin, "There's barely any of them left! How'd you possibly get your hands on it?" Turning his head slightly, he looked at Landry from below.
"I've... Always had it." He looked off into the darkness behind Orryn, choosing his words carefully, "Ever since I was young. I never really questioned it too much." With a swallow of nothing but saliva, he looked back down at it. With wide eyes he looked as Orryn attempted to pry the door of the lantern open, his tongue over his lips. Snatching it away and holding it between both his hands he looked down at Orryn with almost a crazed look, "Are you crazy?" He hissed, his brows furrowed and his entire head enveloped in red light.
"I-I'm sorry, Landry, I couldn't help myself. Faced with a relic like that, I just had to have a closer look." He gulped, leaning back and holding himself with his palms pressed against the rough wood, "I couldn't get it open, anyways. It was like the door was welded shut."
"Leave him alone, Landry." Maliah instructed, putting a hand up between the two of them to break the line of sight, "He didn't know. That's his problem, if he doesn't know he just has to." She gave both of them a disapproving look, and Landry shook his head and put the lantern down in the middle once more.
"I'm sorry," He took a breath, "I don't know what I was worried for." I shouldn't have made a scene; they probably think I have real issues now.
"Me too, shouldn't touch what's not yours, right?" Orryn said, lightly hitting his forehead with his palm, "Sometimes I just act on impulse, is all." He sighed and leant forwards, holding his hands in his lap.
"How come Saint Lucent is so interested in the forest? Surely you could have just interviewed some Company man, no?" Maliah asked, the tips of her pointed ears subtly sticking out of her black hair.
"Well, there's special interest in the magical nature of the sap, and no one really knows why those trees excrete it - or why they're so tall."
"Couldn't you have just gotten a sample of it at the docks?" Landry asks.
"There's always been folklore surrounding the woods - I grew up around it... Stories of tiny people made from the sap itself who protect the forest and-" He was quickly interrupted by the exuberant laughter of Maliah, holding a hand up to her mouth as if to hide away from the other two. It was the most emotion either of them had seen her display ever since they left Pollard's Grove, and it was just as unsettling a sight as it was a reassuring one.
"You can't be serious?" She finally blurts out, wiping away a tear with the tip of her finger, "Little tree people?"
Landry himself has a slight smirk at the idea, but Orryn doesn't seem overly amused, his lips pursed. "How can you of all people find that ridiculous!?" He contests, "You're an elf and a weaver! Probably the most magical thing that's been on this ferry besides the sap!"
She waves her hand, "Yes, maybe... But some things are just too outlandish even for me." After a few moments of silence she gave him an endearing look, "You're serious then?"
"Of course I'm serious." He sighs, "Nobody at Saint Lucent's believes me either, they think at most I'll just find some sort of tree-climbing gnomes." He laughs, "Gnomes!? In the trees? Now that is madness!"
Reaching out and patting his back, Landry gives him a reassuring nod, "I believe your theory, Orryn. What will you do if-" Clearing his throat, "when you find your tree people?"
"Well first of all, I'm going to ask them what they're called." He grins, "Tree people sounds rather demeaning, wouldn't you say?"
The three chuckled, almost forgetting about the darkness of their journey entirely until being shushed by Orryn's father, "I can barely hear myself think with your giggling!" He sternly says, but in reality he had a slight smile tugging at his lips. The internal mechanisms drumming inside the Lugger continued, and the swooshing of the water against the sides added to the choir of the root bed, otherwise it was complete silence and without their eyes they seemed nearly blind and deaf to their surroundings. Rolling his eyes, Orryn got one of his thick leather-bound textbooks out of his bag and began to read. Does he ever give his brain a break? Maliah on the other hand decided to pull out a ball of yarn and began unrolling it around her fingers, making a spiderweb sort of pattern around it. Practising her weaving, no doubt. Landry himself felt at a loss, unsure of what to do besides getting lost in his own thoughts. I really need to pick up a hobby. He thought, before turning his head to a strange croaking noise that came from behind.
As he squinted his eyes to see into the darkness, he noticed the sparkle of two others in the shadows - Is that a bat? I've never heard a bat croak... As he got up, Maliah and Orryn too engrossed in their pass-times to notice what he was doing, he walks over to the side of the ferry and leans out to get a better look. Somethings out there, but what would a singular bat be doing out here? He thought to himself, soon noticing that they were moving along with the boat. It's curious, like me. He thought, but he paused, grasping the railing tightly as he realised that it produced no sound when it moved; no wings flapping could be heard. That isn't a bat! He was correct, as proven by the thick moss covered root that erupted out of the darkness, ripping him from the ferry and into the black water. As he descended he opened his mouth to scream for aid, however he managed to produce no sound, as his mouth was ensnared by the slimy vine blocking off any attempts.
Pitch black and frigid. Those were the only adjectives that needed to be applied to the water Landry found himself in, being pulled further down by whatever living plant had taken him. Mirebark? Is that what this thing is!? He was panicking, desperately clawing at the vine around his mouth, and writhing like a snake caught in a net. As his body turned upwards, he could see the dim light of the lamps on the Lake Lugger slowly moving away from him, not more than a metre at this point but very much a reason for concern all the same. On board, everything was inconspicuous and all three were unaware of the horror that was occurring below them. In fact the only things that could be heard were the soft hums of Orryn's father, the quiet flips of the pages in Orryn's textbook and the twisting of the yarn around Mal's fingers. If they focussed and listened closely - which none of them did - they'd be able to hear the quiet pop of the bubbles behind them, produced from the stolen boy below.
The gurgling roar of the beast filled Landry with a heightened sense of alarm, but rather than send him into an even deeper panic he began attempting to gather his senses. It's dragging me down to the bottom, I don't know how far that is but I've let out enough air to know I won't be able to swim back up from it. That was stupid. He looked around, the blurry darkness a constant until he noticed the face of what grasped him, subtly revealed by the orange glow of it's mouth. It looked like a living tree, only mutated into something far worse, gnarly roots and prickly thorns surrounded it's surface, but the head itself looked like the remains of a tree struck by lightning. It's black glossy eyes at the centre of two pits, and it's mouth more akin to a violent rip. Is this the monster that's going to kill me? Why doesn't it just do it already, or does it want me to suffer? No, I won't let it!
With a defiant glare at his would-be killer, he grasped the cold bronze handle of his sword at his waist and pulled it from its scabbard, slicing the root around him and then the vine that wrapped his mouth. A thunderous bellow escaped the mirebark's own mouth, it's large tree like limbs smashing Landry into a nearby colossal root. Winded, he let out more air. Idiot. I need to kill it quickly, otherwise I'll suffocate. Pulling his legs to his chest and kicking against the root, Landry held his sword in front of him as he swiftly glided through the water - guiding his sword into its chest. Another painful scream rang at his eardrums, but the beast didn't even seem weaker, not even slowed down.
It's sharp talon-like hands clawed at Landry, ripping through his tunic and into his skin - causing him to scream in pain only to let out even more air. I can't win. Not here! Pulling his sword from it's chest and slashing at its eyes, he made a break for the surface of the water, his only chance being able to swim to the ferry before it could catch up. Desperately scooping the water above him and thrusting it behind, he was only a few metres from the surface, and as he looked back he noticed the mirebark was clambering on a nearby root to beat him. It's face was the thing of nightmares, it's determination to drown him clearly visible.
I'm so close. He thought, as he was only a foot at most from breaking the surface, that was until a second root wrapped around his ankle and started to drag him back down all over again. No! I won't let you have me! With a swipe, the root was severed and Landry's hand finally extended out of the water, soon followed by his head.
"Over here!" He yelled, swimming hurriedly to catch up with the ferry which had only gone a small distance away from him. Soon enough, the two faces of Orryn and Mal were visible as they popped up at the back, shock plastered across them. With a jut, the ferry was gently steered into a root to come to a stop, and much to Landry's relief he was able to reach the edge of the Lake Lugger, the two above meeting him and helping to pull him on board.
"I told you not to look!" Hollered Orryn's father as he arrived to help, but at that moment another root clasped onto Landry's shoulder trying to pull him back below. Immediately after, followed the sickening form of the Mirebark, as it broke the surface it's gnarly features came into view for all to see, it's body moldy and rotten from age and water, it's skin that of bark, roots and vines, and worst of all it's now damaged face with hollow black eyes and sharp thorns - an especially blood-curdling sight to Orryn who fell back in fear.
"Don't be a coward boy!" His father yelled, grasping onto the hand that his son had let go off. "By the wheel there's a box, bring me one of the bottles inside!" He instructed, his face turning a bright shade of pink as he struggled against the monster. Unfortunately, Maliah's fingers had been trapped within the yarn she had been practising with, and so rather than risk letting go of Landry, she decided to use her physical force rather than magical. Soon enough, Orryn reappeared with a glass bottle containing a green substance, soon snatched out of his hand by his father and thrown at the beast - the bottle shattering and the substance within oozing acroos its body. Clutching the nearest oil lamp, it's small flame soon lighting the substance ablaze and engulfing the mirebark in a green inferno. Screaming in pain, or whatever horrific sound it made, it let go of Landry and fell back into the water - however the fire was not quenched, as the green light was visible as it got smaller and smaller, burning the mirebark alive as it sank.
With a sigh of relief, Landry clambered atop the ferry and sat back against the railing in exhaustion, coughing up considerable amounts of dirty water. "What were you thinking?!" Seethed Maliah, as she pressed a cloth against his face to attempt to dry him.
"I thought," He coughed, "that-"
"You weren't thinking you fool! You could have died!" Her eyes were more lit with fury than the beast was at the very moment, and Landry struggled to tell if that meant she cared or if she was annoyed at the hassle. He hadn't the bother to ask, or the voice to. He was too busy coughing.
"He's lucky." Said Orryn's father, "Very few survive a mirebark... In fact, this is the first I've heard of it at all." He smiles with a sense of pride for Landry, "Well done, lad. I wouldn't like to wager that I could have broken out from it's grasp." With a pat to the head, he sauntered over to the wheel and grabbed an oar, pushing the ferry away from the root and pushing the lever to restart the journey. "We're not long from Virevale now, which is lucky otherwise I wouldn't doubt you'd freeze."